Antigone
by ChelleyBean
Summary: A little twist on the Time Turner idea brings a most surprising student to Hogwarts.
1. Chapter One

The Future Surprise

How in the name of the Founders had the bastards gotten into the school?  The Gryffindor Prefect pondered this question feverishly in her mind as she ran through the hallway.  Doubtless the Death Eaters expected her to run for the safety of the dungeons, but that would only serve to give them two fresh targets.  Instead, she ran the other way, hoping that they would follow her and thereby grant her parents and the other teachers more time to prepare.

The cold stone of the hallways seemed to chill her through the thick soles of her shoes and her breath made clouds of steam in the air.  It occurred to some part of her that it should not be this cold.  The school term had just started and the weather was still pleasant if not a bit cool.  She had little time to think about this, however, since the voices were swiftly gaining on her.

The astronomy tower could only be reached by a multitude of steps.  With any luck, maybe she could manage to knock a few of them over the railing before she was done.  _If nothing else, I'm getting a good work out._  She felt the chill brushing her knees through the opening at the bottom of her robe where the peeked out from underneath her pleated skirt.  The frigid air had made the door to the tower room frost over, making her hand slip a bit as she made contact with the metal plating.  She shoved it open and ran inside.

At night, the astronomy tower seemed like another world.  Above her the night sky was ablaze with countless points of light.  Normally she would enjoy the sight of it all, but there was no time.  She went to the railing and looked over.  She could see a few people moving around far below her, moving from the edge of the Forbidden Forest towards the school.  She reached for the chain about her neck.  Four hours should do it.  She'd use the time turner now and be gone by the time the attackers made it to the tower.  Four hours would give her enough time to warn Dumbledore and prepare for the attack.

"I do hope you're not planning to throw yourself over the side, dear girl.  I would prefer it if your body were intact."

She whirled to face the speaker.  A steel mask covered the face of a man in black robes.  He didn't come through the door, she would have heard it creaking, but came from the shadows where he had been lying in wait.  Now she knew why the hallway was so cold, a spell to throw her off guard, make her uncomfortable enough that she'd make mistakes.  The chilled surroundings must have frozen her brain, because she should have searched the tower room for other bodies the instant she came through the door.

"Do step away from the railing, my dear.  I don't want a mark on that pretty skin of yours."

She stepped away, slowly.  "What do you want?"

"Revenge, pure and simple.  In truth I had hoped I was wrong and you'd run to your father, but you are nothing if not clever.  Oh, don't look so surprised.  Given who your parents are, of course you'd be one of the brightest minds of your generation."

"Well then, how about sparing my generation and walking away?"  She gave him one of her dazzling smiles, her right hand shaking a little in an effort to dislodge her wand from its holding inside her sleeve.  Her antagonist chuckled darkly.

"Do not think to curse me, girl.  I have a good deal of experience on you."

"What do you want with me?"

"It's not you I'm after, child.  It's that cursed father of yours."

"He's not here."

"No, but he will be.  You, however, will be long dead by then, and in that I will have my revenge."  His grip tightened on his wand.  "You see, one of the Death Eaters he helped track down during his last little excursion was my son, and I had to bury him after that night.  A father should never have to bury his child.  It is a pain unlike anything you could imagine.  I want your father to feel that same agony."

He stepped further out of the shadows in her direction.  From within the mask she could see ice blue eyes, glittering with malice.  "You are his greatest treasure, perhaps even more important to him than you mother.  His pride and joy.  All the things he failed to accomplish in his own life when he sided with us he hopes to see for you.  I want to watch him as he cradles your lifeless corpse in his arms, see him weep over you.  I will see him mourn over your grave, just as I mourn my son."

The smooth, warm wood of her wand finally crept its way into the curve of her fingers.  She could almost feel the dragon heartstring inside quivering in eagerness to be used.  She didn't have the chance, however.  The Death Eater, driven on by the pain of his loss, suddenly shouted his curse.  "Avada Kedavra!"

Time stretched out.  She felt as though her legs and body were made of lead as she watched the green bolt of light stretch towards her with agonizing slowness.  _This is it.  This is the end of my life.  Who will feed Pi? _Odd, that her last thoughts were of her familiar, the gorgeous and clever python her father had bought for her the day she turned five, much to her mother's rage, and was now a good seven feet long.  

She saw the beam of light connect with the spot just above the swell of her breasts.  There was a faint sound of glass crunching and the sensation of razors cutting into her skin.  _My time turner._  Then the world wrench around her, making her vision swim and distort.  She felt a great and hideous pain roar through her and the remains of her dinner threatened to come up on her.  

Then, the world righted itself again, and the pain began to fade.  She blinked her eyes to clear the last of the sickly green light from her eyes.  _I hate green._  She looked up to face her would-be killer, aware that she was very much alive, and found that he was no longer standing before her.  

She blinked again, trying to take stock of her surroundings.  She was feeling the lingering effects of being hit with such a powerful curse, as well as the crash that occurs once the adrenaline starts to decrease and fear has a chance to leave.  She took a deep breath, wincing at a bit of remaining discomfort from the curse and the sting of skin being stretched where the shards of her time turner had cut into her chest.  Letting the breath out, she dimly noticed that it no longer fogged before her from cold.

"My my, what have we here.  Curfew was some time ago."  

The voice was cold, silky and somewhat – familiar?  She turned her head, trying to stop herself from shaking.  The curse left more effects behind than she had thought, for turning her head brought on a splitting headache that shot from one temple to the other, piercing through the back of her eyes.  It dazzled her vision for a time, but she finally managed to focus on the speaker.  

He was dressed in his usual black robes, as tall and imposing a figure as ever.  The sallow skin was familiar as well.  She looked into the obsidian black eyes, grateful to be safe again, then found herself dumbstruck.  His hair was inky black and where were the worry lines in his forehead he had so often said she had given him with her recklessness?  The worst were his eyes.  She felt her stomach clench in sorrow as she stared into those black eyes so much like her own and realized that he didn't know her.  

"Papa?"

Another sharp stab of pain tore through her mind and she found she no longer had the strength to stay up.  She was faintly aware of her knees buckling underneath her and she welcomed the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness as she collapsed.  She was long gone when Professor Severus Snape rushed forward to catch her.


	2. Chapter Two

From Lion to Serpent

She was feeling much better.  The furious aching in her skull was diminished to nothing more than an annoying twinge and her chest didn't sting any longer.  She reached up, eyes still closed, and felt for the skin at the top of her chest.  Her fingers came in contact, not with the blouse of her school uniform, but with some garment of soft cotton.  _I don't remember getting ready for bed._  She slipped her fingers through the space between two buttons and felt the area where her skin had been cut.  There was only smooth, unmarred flesh.

"She's waking up."  There was a rustle of robes as someone sat down next to her.  She turned her head towards the noise and opened her eyes.  The face of Minerva McGonagall looked back at her.  She let out a sigh of relief.

"Aunt Minerva, thank heavens.  I just had the most horrid dream."  She sat up and leaned over so that she could rest her head on the woman's shoulder.  She didn't notice the woman's shock at the action.  "I dreamt that Death Eaters were invading the school and one of them was hunting me down.  He tried to get me with the killing curse but it hit my time turner instead, and there was so much pain.  Then Papa was there, but he didn't look like himself and he didn't know.  He looked right at me and he didn't know me.  It was a nightmare!"  She buried her face in the curve where the older woman's shoulder met with her neck, slipping her arms about the thin torso and hugging her close.  She felt Minerva's hands some up and stroke her hair gently.  

"There now, dear.  You're safe here, but I'm afraid you had a bit more than a dream."  She was trying to be firm yet gentle, the Professor McGonagall trademark behavior.

"More?  Then we were attacked?"  She sat up suddenly and realized she was in the infirmary.  "Mum.  Dad!  Are they all right?  Was anyone hurt?"  She began to wrestle with the bed linens that had been tucked tightly about her.  Only Poppy Pomfrey could trap a student into a bed with a simple tucking of sheets.  

"Be calm, child.  I fear that things are a great deal more complicated than you realize."  Minerva leaned over to gently grip her shoulders and still her struggles.  "Now, it's obvious you know who I am and where you are, and at that you have us all at a disadvantage."  She smoothed the now wrinkled coverlet over the girl's legs.  "Let us begin with who you are?"

She felt the color drain from her face and her blood pounded in her ears.  "Who am I?  Professor, don't you know me?   I'm Antigone… Antigone Snape."  There was a sharp intake of breath behind her and she turned her head around to see that they were not alone.  He stood behind her, standing next to Albus Dumbledore who was watching her with keen interest.  He still looked so… young.  "Papa?"  Her voice sounded weak and pathetic even to herself, but she didn't dwell on it.  Her mind was working, grasping at the clues and trying to put them together like a puzzle in her head.  Her father looked far younger than he should, and he did not know her.  Minerva didn't know her either, even though the woman had been her mentor and teacher for most of her life.  She recalled the bolt of sickly green light coming towards her, striking the time turner underneath her blouse.  The crunching of glass and the shards cutting into the tender flesh of her skin.  

She licked her lips.  "Where… when am I?"

The gentle, kind voice of the headmaster drifted towards her.  "It is the year 2004, my dear.  I fear that is a good deal of time before you come into our lives."

There was a buzzing in her ears, her limbs feeling numb from the shock.  "I was… will be born in 2013, but I was just in 2029."  She turned her face back to the headmaster.  "My turner… it's gone."

"Poppy removed the glass and sand from your wound before she healed it.  I fear it was beyond repair.  Even if it weren't, it would not have sent you back to where you came from."  He moved over to stand by the side of the bed.  "For the time being, I suggest that you remain here.  You've had a nasty shock and even though your time turning took the brunt of the attack, surviving the killing curse is not an easy thing.  Now, lie down and relax.  Poppy will be in shortly with something to help you sleep.  Professor McGonagall, your father and I need to discuss what to do about this situation you've found yourself in."

Her eyes slid over to her father.  He was watching her closely, as if not sure what to make of her.  She wanted to run to him and wrap her arms about his waist, snuggle her head against his chest and hear him tell her everything was going to be fine.  However, looking at him now, she had the feeling that this younger version of her beloved father wasn't likely to offer her any comfort.  Biting her lip, she slid obediently back between the sheets.  She suddenly felt very small and afraid, something she hadn't felt in years.  Nothing could ever touch her at Hogwarts before, but this was new and dangerous position for her to be in and the man to whom she had always been able to take her questions and problems didn't know her.  

The teachers left the room, Minerva stopping to smooth her ginger brown hair briefly and murmur a quiet word of comfort.  _At least that is still the same.  I can still count on her._  The room was silent to the point of oppressiveness when them gone, but she wasn't alone for long.  Madam Pomfrey came in, urging her to sit up and drink from a steaming much of her special extra strong hot cocoa, with double the cocoa powder and a pinch of cinnamon.  It worked to soothe jangled nerves and untwist knotted stomachs.  She downed every drop as instructed before pulling the coverlet over her body and turned over to bury her face in the pillow.  She needed something familiar.  If she were in her own bed, Pi would have crawled in with her already, his nearly crushing weight laying carelessly next to her and over her waist.  There was no Pi here, though; he wasn't even an egg yet.  There was no mother to go to either.

_Actually, there is.  The trouble is, she won't know you any more than Father does._  As her eyes began to close from weariness and the special magic of Poppy's cocoa, her mind drifted towards Gryffindor tower.  _Is she sleeping, or is this one of the nights she snuck out after hours with Harry and Ron?_  Forcing the thoughts of her mother out of her mind, she urged herself to go to sleep.

~ * * * ~

Minerva McGonagall sat down in one of the squashy armchairs before the headmaster's desk.  Severus was pacing before the heart.  "It has to be a trick of some kind."

"A trick?  Those weren't your eyes staring back at us, then?"  Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling and Minerva had no doubt he was deriving some pleasure at Snape's discomfort.  "I will admit that it comes as somewhat of a surprise but surely the thought of settling down some point in your life has occurred to you."

"It most certainly has not!  I do not waste my time with such things."  He stopped, hands clasped tightly behind his back.  The girl's face was burned into his mind.  Silky, ginger brown hair cut in a simple style that just brushed her shoulders.  Eyes that were perhaps a bit too wide but his own jet black in color.  She was tall for her apparent age, and lean in build, with his high cheekbones but the nose was far smaller.  There were parts of him in her, to be sure, or at least parts that looked like him, but they were blended with someone else.  "Even if I did, I have never had the desire for fatherhood."

"Well, 2013 is a long time from now, Severus.  Perhaps you change.  It does happen."  The Transfiguration teacher smiled thinly.  "I do have to wonder who the remarkable woman you end up marrying is, though.  She called me 'Aunt' but I have no sisters still young enough to have children, so I can only assume it is a term of affection," she ignored the glare he sent her way, "But she is a lovely little thing.  Must take after her mother's side."  She accepted a cup of tea from Dumbledore with a nod of thanks.  "The question is what do we do with her?"

"Yes, Severus.  What shall we do with her?"

The younger man looked at the headmaster in confusion.  "Why are you asking me?  What say do I have?"

"From what we've learned so far, you are the girl's father.  It seems only right that you have the greatest say in what is to be done."  He smiled warmly at the scowling man.  "Sending someone twenty-five years into the future is not a task I am familiar with.  It may take some time to correct this.  In the meantime, something will have to be done to at least give her some normalcy in her life.  I will say, however, that she is holding up far better than most young people in her place.  She must get her strength of will from you."

"Nonsense.  She's a Gryffindor."  Minerva allowed another thin little smile to peek over her cup.  Snape's daughter, a Gryffindor.  It was too poetic.  How could he take points from her house if his own child was staring him in the face?

Snape glared at her, then took a breath.  "It will take time to figure out how to correct this, if it can be corrected.  Until that time… perhaps it would be best to continue her education.  If she is my daughter, she should be bright enough to pick up where she left off in spite of her circumstances."

"An excellent idea, Severus.  In the morning we'll find out what classes she was taking and get her the supplies she'll need.  Also, perhaps we'll let the Sorting Hat take a look at her and see where she should be."  Minerva sputtered a bit.

"She's already been sorted!"

"She will be a Gryffindor in her own time, but given that people do change, as you pointed out earlier, that may not be the best place for her in this time.  There is also the trouble of her identity.  We can't very well have the daughter of the potions master show up close to the end of her scholastic career, especially since there are many who know he has no child."

"I may have a solution for that, Headmaster.  You are aware that my sister, Veloria, passed away recently.  We were never close, she was considered somewhat of a black sheep in our family, but no one really knew her.  I do know that she never married and, if you ever got a chance to know her, you would know she would not have been averse to bringing a child into this world out of wedlock.  We can claim her to be my niece.  There will be no reason for anyone to doubt it if I were to claim Veloria named me as her child's guardian."

"Very good, Severus.  Now, there is little more we can do tonight.  In the morning I shall begin researching a way to return her to her own time.  Poppy will no doubt run us through if we disturb the girl anymore tonight, so I suggest we have her brought here after breakfast tomorrow."

~ * * * ~

Sunlight and the scent of fresh scones roused her from her slumber.  Madam Pomfrey had just brought her in a tray of food, the afore mentioned scones with fresh butter, crispy bacon, fluffy eggs and a bowl of grapes that had already been removed from their stems.  She shook away the cobwebs of sleep and sat up in the narrow bed.  Her stomach rumbled eagerly at the smell of food and the mediwitch smiled warmly.  "Now, eat up dear, then we'll get you cleaned up.  The Headmaster wants to see you in his office first thing after breakfast."  She even went as far as to butter one of her scones for her while she drank deeply from a glass of milk.  

She dug into the food, tossing out half the manners her mother had instilled deep within her most of her life.  She was starving from both the length of time since her dinner and from the energy her recent trials had taken.  She watched as Poppy fussed over a non-existent wrinkle in the freshly pressed school robes that lay folded up on a chair next to her bed.  "A Snape in Gryffindor, who would ever have thought it?"

"No one.  Papa fumed for three weeks after my sorting."  She grinned before taking another bite of the buttered scone.  The house elves, it seemed, had always been wonderful cooks, though how anyone had guessed that orange-currant scones were her favorite she didn't know.  Nor did she care at the moment.  Now that she had time to calm down she was able to put her priorities in order.  She doubted seriously that Dumbledore would kick her out of the castle.  She was an underage witch, and quite without guardians at the moment considering her parents weren't even married yet and she technically had yet to be born.  She would need to start looking for a way to go home, and she would need to work quickly.  If she remembered her history correctly, Voldemort was very much alive in this day and time, and he was steadily growing stronger.  Soon war would erupt and a good many families would be destroyed.  

But she had the power to change all of that.  She knew her history, what the Ministry felt safe in letting the public know anyway, and she could warn them of what was to come.  She didn't know where Voldemort was now, no one had, but she could let them know all the important battles, all of the well-known attacks.  She could give them the knowledge they would need to perhaps stop the war before it got out of hand.  

The thought that she could actually possess the knowledge and the power to put a stop to Voldemort before more innocents died filled her with a heady excitement.

"Time to get cleaned up, Dear."  Madame Pomfrey took the tray, considerably lighter now than when she brought it in, and ushered the girl towards the infirmary bathroom.  She placed her uniform onto a small chair by one wall and left her to clean herself.  Knowing that one did not keep the Headmaster waiting any longer than one should, she turned on the faucet to the shower and smiled as the scent of jasmine filled the air.  The shower here was always spelled so that the water was mixed with the scent the bather most enjoyed.  Night blooming jasmine had always been her favorite.  A short time later, sweet smelling and feeling a good deal more like herself, she used a simple charm to dry off and another clever little one she had learned from her mother to detangle her hair and restore it to her simple, carefree style.  Feeling ready to take on dragons, she dressed herself in her spotless, crisply pressed uniform and exited the bathroom, ready to face the world.

~ * * * ~

"Have a seat, Miss Snape."  Dumbledore smiled warmly at the young woman as she had entered his office, pausing to give a searching glance at her father, then focusing back on him.  Now she took a seat in one of the squashy chairs before his desk and smoothed her robes over her legs, holding herself poised and elegantly.  "I trust that you are well rested after your ordeal."

"Yes, Al… Headmaster," she sighed and gave a frustrated frown.  "I'm sorry, you've always been Albus to me.  I have never had to stand on formalities with you.  This is rather… difficult."  He chuckled warmly, allowing her to relax a bit.  

"I understand.  I'm guessing you've spent little time away from Hogwarts during your lifetime.  You were raised here?"

"Yes, sir.   Both of my parents are… will be… teachers."  She gave a subdued look towards her father.  "I was born here, in the infirmary, and grew up here.  It gives me a distinct advantage over the other students considering the professors oversaw most of my formative education."

"Quite understandable.  It has been a long time since we had a family living in Hogwarts.  It will be nice to have a baby present again.  Don't you think so, Severus?"  He smiled charmingly at the potions master, and a knife jerked in her heart when she heard the derisive snort coming from off to her right.  _Do not let him hurt you.  He's just off balance, and you know what a git that turns him into._  "Now, we have decided that it would be best for you to continue your lessons while you are here, just until we figure out how to send you back to when you belong."  

"But I thought I might start researching a way."

"This is a complicated task, my dear.  Far too difficult for a girl who hasn't even completed her schooling yet."  He raised a placating hand when she bristled at that.  "Not that I doubt your intelligence.  Indeed, with Severus as a father, and knowing his taste for intelligence over beauty," he smiled mischievously, "I have no doubt you possess one of the finest minds ever seen in the wizarding world.  Still, we cannot have a school age girl with free run of the castle without her being in classes.  I will personally see to finding a way to send you home."

"Yes, sir."  She sighed, a frown creasing her forehead.  "Well, I was taking Potions, Transfiguration, Arithamancy and Charms, of course.  I also remained in Herbology and was taking Runes, Advanced History of Magic, Care of Magical Creatures, Defense against the Dark Arts, Magical Fine Arts and Combat."  She frowned again.  "Without my time turner I suppose I'll have to drop a few of those, and I don't figure you have Combat yet."

"No, not yet.  What exactly is it?"

"Training in physical combat, hand to hand and without magic."  This time she pointedly ignored her father's snort.  That was the usual response from him in her own time as well.  "Just in case a wand is broken or you get separated from it."

"Rather clever.  One of my ideas, I suppose?"

"Uncle Harry's, actually."  She bit her lip as soon as it was out of her mouth.  She probably shouldn't say things like that.  There was a growl from off to her right, her father, of course.

"Ah, very clever indeed.  Now, as to where we should put you.  You will need to be sorted."  He got up and took the Sorting Hat from his bookshelf.

"But I've already been sorted.  I'm in Gryffindor."

"Yes, yes, and you will be again when you're in your own time.  However, as I explained to Professor McGonagall last night, people do change, as do circumstances.  We shall need to see where you belong in this time."  His eyes twinkled as he brought the hat over and set it upon her head.

"Hmmm… a Snape is it?  Quite interesting."  She remembered this part, the raspy voice of the hat as it poked around inside her head.  "Once a Gryffindor I see, and plenty of courage to go with it.  A sharp mind as well.  Still, there is ambition in you, such a strong thirst to prove yourself.  Both of witch and wizard, strong in magic and intellect.  I know where you will best fit.  **Slytherin!**"

She didn't look over to see how her father took this news, she was too busy trying to wrap her mind about it.  "You take that back!"

"Sorry, that's where you belong."  The hat sounded so chipper about it!

"I most certainly do not!  There isn't a conniving or malicious bone in my body!"  She glared at a spot on the front of Dumbledore's desk.  "I do **not** belong in Slytherin."

"I am never wrong, dear.  I can see everything in your mind, up close and personal."

Her obsidian eyes narrowed.  "Oh really?  How would you like to get up close and personal with a fireplace?!"  She grabbed the hat, ripped it off her head and drew it across her body in preparation to send it sailing into the cheerfully blazing fire behind her father.

"Miss Snape!"  Dumbledore reached out with a hand and snatched the hat back into his own grasp.  "I regret to inform you that you cannot throw the Sorting Hat into the fire."

"Why not?"  The question was a growl.  The mirthful glint in the headmaster's eye only served to further irritate her.  "It's clearly defective."

"I wasn't the one about to throw an irreplaceable magical artifact into a fire."

"You're treading thin ice, rag bag!"  She was glaring at the decrepit looking hat with fire in her eyes.

"Miss Snape, I must ask you to control yourself.  Remember, you will only be in Slytherin during your stay here.  Once we find a way to return you to your own time you will once again be a Gryffindor.  Now, you will need to secure supplies for your classes as well as additional clothing and uniforms.  As luck would have it, your father has no classes today and is available to take you to Diagon Alley to purchase them."  She looked over towards Snape and noted that he was watching her closely.  A feeling of guilt for so openly being against his house washed over her and she blushed, lowering her gaze.  "There is the matter of what story you will use to explain your presence here, which Severus has devised already and will need to discuss with you.  Also, it will give you both time to get to know one another better.  After all, your father is the only family you have here," the glitter in his eyes made her wonder if he had already figured out the rest of it, "and you will need his help if you are both to get through this."

"Yes, Al… Headmaster."  She sighed.  "I'll try not to be any trouble."

"Oh, I wouldn't ask you to go against your nature, but I would ask that you don't tear my school apart while you're here.  Now, the two of you should be going.  You'll want to get back before dinner this evening.  We have to introduce you to the rest of the school."

Her father pushed away from where he was leaning against the mantelpiece as she stood up.  He inclined his head slightly as he motioned for her to lead the way out of the office.  Though she loved him, and respected him, with ever beat of her heart, she could not deny that she feared going out that door with him.  Something told her that Severus Snape was not entirely pleased with her being there.


	3. Chapter Three

Diagon Alley

It didn't take long after leaving the school grounds for their shopping expedition for her to realize that her mother had been utterly, completely, horribly accurate.  _What a complete and utter ass!  Whatever did she see in him in the first place?_

He never smiled or said more words to her than was needful.  When he did speak to her it was with a sneer.  It almost seemed as though her beloved parent _hated children, but surely that was all an act.  It was in her time.  He adored her and she often heard him laughing over the antics of his students when they were behind closed doors.  He was still the terror of the school in public, but that was all a front.  __Where did my father go?_

Diagon Alley was different from her time.  A twinge of sorrow moved through her when she recalled that in just a few short years, Voldemort and his cronies would attack the bustling marketplace and reduce it to near ruins.  By the time she was of age to attend school, it had been rebuilt, brighter and stronger than before, but it lacked much of the enchantment and charm this past incarnation of it possessed.  All about her were smiles and handshakes, laughter and hugs.  Old friends greeted one another warmly as gnarled old witches gathered around store windows to gossip about various bits of nonsense.  All seemed to part way for the passage of her father, and she moved quickly to keep up.

_He isn't all bad, though.  He did let me have those three books I found.  She didn't know if Albus (__must remember to call him Professor Dumbledore now) had given him the wizard gold for her school things or if he was using what was in his personal vault, but those three tomes were expensive.  Oddly enough, she hadn't even had to ask for them, he had caught her staring at them longingly, looked about ready to snap at her to hurry up, then simply told the shopkeeper to add them to their order.  Of course, they were books that he would approve of, both now and in the future. Two were advance texts on potions and the third was on the proper care and growing of magical plants.  It had seemed a kind act very much out of place for the terrifying Severus Snape._

All that was left were her school robes and uniforms.  She only had the one skirt and blouse, and those were slightly different from what was the standard in this time.  The skirt was about half an inch shorter at the knee and her shoes had just a little bit of a heel to them, rather than being flat and sensible.  She felt it best not to mention that the shoes and stockings were a relatively new change, brought about when some seventh year girls had recruited her to use her obvious sway over the faculty to win the right to wear them.  Somehow she didn't think he'd appreciate that.

The path towards Madam Milkin's took them in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies, so anyone who knew her would have understood that she just had to stop and see what was on display in the window.  Her father, however, continued on, not realizing that she no longer followed.

~ * * * ~

He would not ask her about herself.  He refused to allow himself to form any sort of attachment to the girl.  

The books were an impulse that he gave into, something he would have normally ignored altogether, a desire she had that played to his pride.  He could lie to Voldemort, he could lie to the Death Eaters, and he could certainly lie to the Ministry of Magic, but he could never lie to himself.  He had felt a stab of pride when she had stopped to look through those books, a hunger to own them clearly etched into her face.  That this girl not yet born, destined to be of his blood, would possibly follow in his footsteps had made him proud.  Furiously, he chastised himself in silence, ordering himself not to give in to any more desires of wanting to please her.

_If this is the type of man I become, indulgent of a child's whims, then I must truly be an appalling parent.  _

There was something else he refused to ask.  He would not, could not, ask who her mother was or would be.  He could not deny that curiosity burned him from the inside, to know what woman could possibly stay with him long enough to bear him a daughter and remain afterwards.  She spoke of them both, he and his future mate, as though they were still together and an intricate part of her life, so he had no doubt that the future held some interesting changes for him.  However, he was of the opinion that knowing too much about the future could endanger the future.  In the haste to change something, you could prevent a great good from coming about or allow a greater evil to be spawned.  Besides, he could not begin to entertain the thought of a lover and spouse until after all dangers had passed.

_But all dangers are not passed in her time.  She mentioned that someone was after her, trying to kill her.  Avada Kedavra, the killing curse.  He didn't realize that his hands fisted tightly within the encompassing drape of his sleeves.  __Someone tried to strike her down with the killing curse.  He almost turned around to ask her more about that event, but stopped himself.  Something told him that the less he knew about that, the less likely he would be to drive the girl mad with overprotectiveness in the future._

He reached the windows of the clothing shop, and then froze, schooling his features immediately.  Coming out of the shop was Lucius Malfoy, in all his sinister glory.  With no time to turn away, he was forced to give a tight smile as the older wizard spotted him.  His mind remembered that he had yet to explain the story devised to give reason for her presence at Hogwarts, but had little time to ponder this since Malfoy was approaching him.

"Severus, I'm surprised to see you here.  Don't you have a class to teach?"

"Not today, Lucius.  I have other matters to attend to this afternoon."  He turned slightly to indicate Antigone, and then realized that she was no longer behind him.  He looked back along the patch they had taken and saw her in front of the Quidditch shop, studying the display there.  Had he known she was separated from him, he wouldn't have bothered to indicate her and played his hand that Malfoy would never realize he wasn't here alone.  As if on cue, however, she looked back his direction.  Her dark eyes met with his, then moved to Malfoy, before she left the window and walked towards them.  

"A new student, then?"  The wizard studied the girl as she approached.  She came forward without hesitation and a strong tilt to her chin.  Her eyes flicked to Snape's briefly and he saw that she knew exactly who he was talking to.

"After a fashion.  Lucius, allow me to introduce my niece, Antigone Snape.  I've had her transferred to Hogwarts effective this year.  Antigone, this is Lucius Malfoy, an old and respected friend of mine."

She took her cue and curtsied slightly, expression polite.  "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Malfoy."  Her manner was impeccable and managed to make Severus relax somewhat.

"I'm sure."  The older wizard was considering the girl closely, as if measuring her and finding her quite acceptable.  "A lovely girl, Severus.  Your brother's child?"

"My sister Veloria's, actually.  Sadly, she passed away over the summer, but her will named me as Antigone's guardian.  I felt, under the circumstances, that it would be best to move her closer to what family she has remaining."

"Of course, the loss of a parent can be a trial for any child.  Tell me, girl, where have you gone to school until now?"

He hadn't been expecting that.  Before he could butt in with the answer, he heard his daughter's soft, even voice respond, "Belle Noir, in the Americas."

"Belle Noir?  Right outside of New Orleans, I believe, and not cast in the most favorable of lights.  Are you a student of voodoo, then?"

"No, sir.  I chose to study more traditional magic.  My main focus was potions."  Snape was concentrating on keeping his relief hidden.  The girl easily slipped into the game of deception without hesitation.  

"Indeed, if her choice of leisure reading is any sign, I may let her take over my first year classes just so I don't have to put up with the dunderheads."  He kept his voice dry, allowing the corners of his lips to tilt up in a slight smile.  Somehow the girl managed to actually blush, as though surprised by the supposed compliment.

"Excellent.  It is good that you've found someone to follow in your foot steps since fate has decided to deny you an heir."  It was a deliberate jab, something to be expected from Malfoy.  "You'll have to remember to introduce her to my son.  I'm sure he'll be more than happy to show her around the school and help her adapt to the change."  He was studying her again, like a man who was appraising the qualities of a blue-blooded bitch he was thinking of buying.  It was a look that Snape did not appreciate, knowing where it would possibly lead.

_If you think I'll even contemplate a pairing between that git you call a son and any of my blood, you're mad.  He wouldn't be worthy enough to lick our boots.  "I'll be sure to do just that."  He waited for the wizard to say his good-byes and let them get on with securing the girl some uniforms, but Malfoy seemed intent on prying into Antigone's life._

"I noticed you were studying the Quidditch supplies?  Are you interested in the game?  My son is the Seeker for Slytherin house."

"Really?"  She was unerringly polite and seemed genuinely interested.  "I played the Seeker position for my team at Belle Noir.  Never lost a game."

That took the other man by surprise.  Snape allowed himself a genuine smile at the shock on Malfoy's face. "You were the Seeker?"  He recovered quickly.  "Then you should speak with my son.  It would seem you both have much in common."  He looked back at the potions master then.  "I must be going now, Severus.  Business to attend to.  You understand."

"Perfectly.  Don't let us keep you, Lucius."  The man nodded slightly and left them, allowing Snape to turn and study his future daughter with an arched brow.

"Excellent work, girl.  That story about being Seeker was rather mean spirited of you, though."

She looked up at him, the picture of innocence.  "What story?  I am the Seeker for my house team in my time, and I've never lost a single game."

Now it was his turn to be surprised.  "Truly?  Quite an accomplishment for a bookworm.  Who taught you how to play?"  His stomach clenched when he saw her grin.  _Don't say it.  Don't say it._

"Why, Uncle Harry, of course."  Her smile was bright as she batted her dark lashed coquettishly while she walked around him to enter the clothing shop.  

~ * * * ~

She sat nervously on the smooth wooden bench at the end of the Slytherin table, pointedly ignoring the curious looks being directed towards her from the other students.  From here she was clearly visible to her father and the other teachers, but she dared not look up at them.  

It was odd, since this wasn't the opening day feast or a special occasion, for the students to have to wait for their food to magically appear before them.  Everyone was wondering about the delay and was riveted when Professor Dumbledore rose.  "I have but one announcement to make this evening.  Due to an unfortunately incident within his family, Professor Snape has seen fit to have his niece transferred here to Hogwarts."  With one aged hand the headmaster motioned for her to rise.  Slowly, she got up from her seat and felt even more eyes upon her than before.  

"Antigone Snape has already been sorted and has been placed into Slytherin House.  I trust that all of you will make her feel welcomed into our family and do everything in your power to help her to adjust."  He nodded to her and she gratefully sat down, much faster than when she stood up.  "Now, with nothing more to add, let the feast begin."

She was relieved when the plates before them were mounded high with food in an instant.  Most of the students were too hungry to care any longer about the new girl in their midst and she was either quickly forgotten or dismissed because she was related to Snape.  Except amongst the Slytherins.  They still looked at her between hushed whispers and furtive glances.  She felt like she was being sized up, and she didn't care for it one bit.

_I know their names, but I don't know all of their faces.  She truly didn't want to grow close to any of her new housemates.  Many of them would follow Voldemort in the very near future, and most of those would end up dead in the coming war.  __I can even tell some of them the exact day if I wanted to.  It was frightening, knowing the future with such stunning clarity.  _

Her eyes raised up and she looked at the next table over.  There, sitting across from a wild mop of hair that could only be 'Uncle Harry' and a flaming ball of red hair that could only be 'RonRon' was a girl about her age with frizzy, ginger brown hair and fiery brown eyes.  She found herself hungry for the sight of her and didn't notice that she was staring until the girl's own eyes met hers across the space between them.  Hermione Granger tilted her head to one side in a silent question, her expression one of distrust.  Understandable since she was looking back at a Slytherin.  Antigone blushed and offered a shy smile before lowering her gaze to her plate.

She wished she had been put in Gryffindor, and then she could sit next to the other girl without anyone questioning it.  She recalled, from all the tales her mother had told her about the years she spent in school, that the two houses did not mix with one another outside of classes.  In fact, the animosity felt between the two far outshone the petty pranks and skirmishes they would have in the future.  Knowing that it could cause trouble should she try to form some kind of bond with this younger version of one of Hogwarts finest minds, she felt a twinge of sorrow in her heart.  She sighed, mournfully, and sent a quiet, unspoken thought in the Gryffindor girl's direction.

_I miss you, Mum._

_~ * * * ~_

_Author's Notes:_

I'm flattered and awestruck by all the great reviews so far.  Thank you for all your support.  I'm truly sorry for subjecting you to the torture that is my overactive imagination, but this is the only way to get the folks out of my head!  Please keep reading and I'll keep writing.  With any luck, I'll manage to get Antigone back where she belongs without leveling the school in the process.

Love,

ChelleyBean


	4. Chapter Four

Mother and Daughter

The following day all the gossip was about the new girl.  Antigone did her best to ignore it by keeping her head slightly down, but it didn't help when you were taller than most of your classmates.  Reciting the inventory of her father's storeroom in alphabetical order (something she had memorized from numerous detentions and groundings) worked a little better.  The previous evening Millicent Bulstrode and Pansy Parkinson, the other two Slytherin girls her age, had attempted to engage her in 'girl talk' only to find that the bookish Miss Snape was completely hopeless in this arena.  Quite all right by her, she had known both girls when they were grown and two more viper-tongued bitches had never walked the earth.

In spite of only having picked at her meal both last night and this morning, she wasn't hungry.  She was incredibly tired, however, since she hadn't slept very well either.  She would have approached her father to ask if she could stay in his rooms, but the relationship there was still too shaky to risk it.  Doubtless he would never understand her dislike of the Slytherin students in the first place and she feared she had insulted him with her obvious distaste of the entire house before.  Thankfully, her classes weren't too much of a problem.  The teachers had all, apparently, formed their own idea of how to deal with her.  Some were initially cautious, like Hagrid, but relaxed around her shortly.  Others, such as Professor Flitwick, seemed to have taken into their heads to pity the youngest member of the Snape family for her blood connection to the "Demon in the Dungeon", the nickname that they often used amongst themselves whenever he was being particularly difficult.

Most of the basic classes were paired off between Slytherin and Gryffindor, with the blessed exception of Herbology.  To her displeasure, however, she didn't seem to be able to sit next to the esteemed Hermione Granger.  Most of this was due to the fact that the one person she had always hated more than any other would not stay from her.  

"There you are, Antigone."  The snide, drawling voice made her wince internally.  Struggling to maintain a civil expression, she looked up from her potions text and directed her eyes towards the pale, rat-faced boy who was taking the seat next to her own.  _Oh gods!  Now he wants to be my lab partner?  What celestial power did I piss off this much?  And when the hell did I give him leave to use my given name?_

"Malfoy."  Cool, polite and just a tinge of I'm-really-not-in-the-mood-right-now.  He didn't take the hint.

"Oh, call me Draco.  I insist.  We are in the same house, after all, and the Snapes and the Malfoys have always been close friends."

_Only because neither of us want to deal with the legal aftermath of wholesale slaughter._  "Draco, then."  She looked around the classroom, hoping to see a Slytherin without a partner.  There was one, in the very back.  "Aren't you Crabbe's partner?"  _I hope._

The boy shrugged this off easily enough.  "Usually, but there aren't any truly permanent partners.  No assigned seating either."  He leaned over a little closer.  From the corner of her eye, she caught a murderous glare aimed in her direction.

"I don't think Miss Parkinson cares much for you being my partner."

"Pansy?  Just a dear friend, I assure you.  Nothing more."

_Liar._  

She was about to try a subtle suggestion that he partner his fuming girlfriend when the door slammed open.  She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.  She didn't know why his entrance struck her as funny, but she did find it amusing that he still attempted to intimidate a class (and usually succeeded in doing so) and bursting in like a man ready to commit murder.  She dared to meet his eyes, but noted that he was looking at Malfoy, his own eyes narrowing.

"Malfoy, take your seat next to Crabbe."  Before the boy could protest he had moved his attention to someone else. "Mr. Longbottom, you will be with Potter and Weasley today.  I hope the three of you together might actually manage to produce the correct potion.  Miss Snape, you will be partnering Miss Granger."  All this was arranged during the time it took him to walk from the door to the front of the classroom.  Antigone stood rooted to the spot, shocked beyond words.  "Have you lost your wits, Miss Snape?  Was there something about that simple statement you cannot understand?"

She was not used to being on the receiving end of her father's sharp manner.  It stung more than she would have expected.  She shook her head quickly and scooped up her things, muttering a quiet "No, Sir," before moving over to take the now empty spot next to her mother.  She dared to look at the other girl's eyes and saw that she was confused by the arrangement as well.  _He can't possibly know.  If he did, he wouldn't let me anywhere near her.  What is he playing at now?_

~***~

_That should keep them both entertained for a while._  After the trip to Diagon Alley, he had no doubts as to his daughter's academic strengths.  The idea had come to him during preparations for class to pair her off with the Granger girl.  It would keep her from helping Longbottom so that the boy would be forced to muddle through on his own (and perhaps even learn something) and he suspected that, for the first day at least, it would allow him to instruct a class without the chit constantly waving her hand about to answer every question.  However, children were nothing if not adaptable, and he suspected that it would only take them the first day to grow used to one another.  

It also served to get Malfoy away from Antigone.  Lucius must have already owled his son regarding the girl and the boy was starting his hunt.  Not that he could blame him.  Up until now Malfoy had been looking for a more permanent connection between his family and Parkinson, but the rather homely Pansy Parkinson wasn't the most appetizing of sweethearts.  Were he in the boy's shoes, he would have jumped at the chance to replace her as well.  Still, to walk into the room and see the boy hovering over her had sickened him, but there was some gratification in noting the barely concealed distaste on her face.  She had intelligence enough to notice the "wrong sort" at least.

There was little lecturing needed for today.  The class had the notes from the previous session to work from; they had only to brew the potion.  It would take the full length of time allotted in their class and most of their concentration.  The revealing potion, meant to allow the drinker to see through magical disguises, was complex and he fully expected the bulk of the class to fail.  

He allowed his eyes to rest for a moment on the two girls he expected to complete the potion correctly sitting at one of the front worktables, noting that they were already whispering over the class notes.  Antigone had to bend down a bit further to speak with the Gryffindor girl.  Miss Granger was a rather petite creature, towered over by most of her year, while his daughter seemed to have inherited the Snape family's tall, lithe form.  He recalled that his sister had always snarled in rage at her reflection, fully detesting being what she termed "freakishly tall" and lamenting on the overall lack of proper curves.  Being the dutiful, younger brother he had often teased her about it, pointing out the more pleasing figures of other girls her age in seemingly innocent conversations. 

Did he have other children in the future?  Was Antigone an only child or did she have a younger brother or sister to torment her as well?  He pushed the thought from his mind the instant he realized he was thinking it.  He would not become obsessed with his future.  He would shelter the girl until Dumbledore found a way to send her to her own time and allow his future self to play the doting father.  At this moment in time, he would concentrate on his teaching.

He prowled amongst the worktables, walking behind each row of students and ignoring the way they tensed up at the sound of his coming nearer.  The Slytherin students cringed as well, though they were not as obvious about it.  He knew very well that even those in his own house were in awe of him and his ice demeanor, ever aware that he wasn't above taking points away from Slytherin students, though he was more lenient with them.  There were some bright students among them, but being raised by the worst of the dark witches and wizards had reduced them to petty rivalries and spoiled behaviors.  Generations of inbreeding had left them soft, weak and riddled signs of diminished power.  When he compared the Slytherin students of the past to these pasty, pale imitations, he had to fight himself to keep from cringing.

As he continued to stalk the classroom a movement from the corner of his eye stopped his angst-ridden thoughts.  With the speed and grace of a serpent, he reached out to grasp Longbottom's wrist in one of his own slender hands.  "Mr. Longbottom, were you not paying attention in class Monday?  I believe that I instructed you to add only Amaryllis petals, not the leaves.  However, if you're that eager to spend the rest of the term in the infirmary, then by all means, continue."  His voice was cold enough to freeze the air in spite of the boiling cauldrons.  The round faced boy gulped and muttered some barely audible apology before his hand was released so that he could correct the problem.  Tucking his own hand back into the sleeves of his robe, he lifted his eyes to meet two curious gazes.  "Snape!  Granger!  I fail to see how this concerns the two of you.  Tend to your own cauldron."  Both girls immediately complied, bending back over their work.

A snide comment here, a deduction in points there, class continued much as he expected.  In that secret part of his mind, he longed for a class full of Miss Grangers, all eager to learn and possessing the intelligence to excel.  She was an annoying little know-it-all, but he doubted she would be as bad had there been an advanced placement program at Hogwarts much like those he had heard of in Muggle schools, classes designed for the brilliant minds so that the Longbottoms and Goyles of the world didn't hold them back.  Had the girl just had been born of at least one wizarding parent she would have most likely been in Slytherin rather than Gryffindor.  Hearing Minerva expound on the girl's mind and talents had worn thin during the first year, shortly after she had so blatantly lied to them and the woman believed her completely.  He was never quite sure why she had stood up for two boys who, up until that night, had treated her as little better than a pest, but the friendship that had formed as a result stood on unshakeable foundations.

Deciding to back off for a little while and let the students breathe, he made his way back to the raised platform where his desk stood.  The black cloth of his robes rustled as he turned and sat down in the chair.  Tenting his fingers, he allowed his eyes to rake over the class.  Potter, Weasley and Longbottom were all three trying to decide amongst them who had written the notes down correctly while Parkinson was giving Goyle a withering look for daring to question her instructions.  His eyes fell upon Crabbe and Malfoy, and he noted with no small amount of irritation that the boy was not paying attention to his class work, but staring at the front of the class instead.  With a silent growl that none of the students could hear, he turned his eyes to the girls.

_They're certainly adapting to one another well._  He managed not to smile as two pairs of hands collided briefly, both having reached for the same vial of extract at the exact same moment.  The conflict was solved quickly, Antigone retreating to allow Granger to take the vial while she turned her attention to chopping willow bark, meant to counteract the headaches this particular potion could bring on without it.  Their hands were very much alike, both slender with long fingers and nails that would be oval in shape except that neither girl spent a great deal of time caring for them.  The nails were ragged and torn in multiple places from the hectic pace of academic pursuits.  The similarities were almost charming.

He watched as his future child bent down a little further to whisper with her lab partner.  Their faces were rather close to one another as they discussed the notes on the Granger girl's parchment.  He had given Antigone her own copy the night before in preparation for the class, but she did not have the benefit of having sat through Monday's lesson as the other had.  Her rather too-short (_he preferred women with long hair_), straight locks met with Granger's waist length frizz.  The difference in texture and length was the breaking point between what turned out to be two heads of exactly the same ginger brown color.  He frowned briefly at this.  Her mother's color, he surmised.

Apparently satisfied with their mutual decision, both girls lifted their attentions from the parchment and turned them back to the potion.  The willow bark properly chopped, he watched as they busied themselves with adding it.  Antigone folded the heavy piece of parchment she had used as a makeshift cutting board so that she could slide the pieces into the cauldron while Miss Granger stirred the brew.  He looked at the identical expressions of concentration on their faces… and froze.

Both girls had pulled their bottom lips under slightly to bite them lightly with their teeth, more on the right side than on the left.  The twin sets of lips, both shaped like a cupid's bow, were now folded in the same way underneath identical, smallish noses.  Eyes of different color were the same shape and size, perfectly matched for Miss Granger's bone structure but a bit too wide for his daughter's thin, angular features.  The expressions were the same… exactly the same.  

His black eyes roamed again over their hair.  No, he hadn't been mistaken.  Both girls had the exact same shade of ginger brown; only the textures and length differed.  He stared again at their hands and swallowed roughly.  He had thought that she had his hands, but now that he knew what he was looking for he could tell that wasn't the case.  They were long, but the nails were all wrong.  He had square nails, not oval.

Once the bark was added, he watched as his daughter smiled.  Then, as if feeling the weight of his gaze upon her, she looked up and over in his direction.  From the way her eyes flared a bit and what little color there was in her face escaping, he must have had a rather startling expression on his own features.  Antigone looked at him, then at Miss Granger, then back to him before lowering her head quickly back over the notes.  Miss Granger noted the odd behavior and seemed to question her about it, but the taller girl just shook her head.  He didn't need to approach the table or even call her into the office off to the side of the room to ask her what was the matter.  Her behavior told him that his suspicions, as ridiculous as they may seem, were spot on.

Once the bell sounded, he gave the class instructions to bottle the potions and leave them for his review.  This was done and students fled from the dungeon chambers as quickly as they could.  He waited impatiently for them to place the vials on his desk, then looked up and tried to find his daughter.  He caught sight of her just as she was running through the door and into the hall.  Black eyes narrowed dangerously, but he didn't call out.  Perhaps it was better this way.  It would allow him to ponder just what type of madness he must suffer in the future that he would bed Hermoine Granger.

~***~

"Antigone."

She stopped and turned to see her mother running towards her.  She managed to force a smile as the girl approached.  "Hello.  Thanks for the help in class."

"It's nothing.  Just helping the new girl."  Hermione grinned at her, ignoring the frank looks garnered from both houses.  "I was thinking, if you like, I could help you brush up on your subjects, help you sort out just where we are."

Antigone looked up and noted, with great relief, that her father was not standing in the doorway glaring at her.  "I'd like that."  She took a deep breath.  _In for a penny, in for a pound._  "Library, then?"

"Is there anywhere else to study?  What time is good for you?"

She looked back at the door.  Still no Professor Snape.  "Can you do it now?"

She must have said something right, because her mother lit up with joy.  "Of course I could.  This was my last class for the day."

"Well then, shall we attack the library?"  Both girls took off at a slightly more hurried pace than needed, mainly because Antigone was directing it.  Something about growing up within this drafty old castle had taught her a good many things.  One of the most important was not to poke a disgruntled gargoyle.  Well, she had already done that in spades, and it wasn't even her fault!  One thing was for sure, however, she had no desire to face her father this evening.  Something told her that he was not taking his latest revelation all that well.


	5. Chapter Five

_Tigga_

_Honestly!  You would think that in a place this large a person would be able to sneak about!  It was getting dangerously close to curfew, not that she hadn't been out past curfew before.  Still, she was having the most annoying problem in getting to the Slytherin dormitories.  The problem, to her vexation, was that her dear papa had left the door to his office standing open, and she had to go past his office to get to the common room.  __He's waiting for me, I just know it._

The study session in the library had been wonderful, and blissfully father-free.  It was hard to imagine that the petite, frizzy haired girl she had spent three relaxing hours with was the future Mrs. Snape.  Hermione was destined to age gracefully.  By the time Antigone would be born, the brown frizz would be wrestled into submission until it formed smooth, glowing curls, she would stop hiding the rounding figure that now embarrassed her underneath voluminous robes in favor of more flattering styles and her bookish intelligence would grow into a stunning wit.  _I don't see what he's so ticked off about.  Most men would kill to have someone like Mum by their side, the ungrateful prat._

She wasn't being fair, but she really didn't give a damn.  Right now, her biggest concern was avoiding her father altogether.  _So much for the Gryffindor courage.  It was times like this that she wished her mother had given in when she had pleaded for an invisibility cloak like Uncle Harry's, but for some reason she couldn't fathom, her parents hadn't trusted her with one.  They had seemed to think she'd be getting into trouble all the time.  Hardly reasonable to expect her to seek out trouble when trouble usually found her.  It just happened to be roaming the halls the same time she was.  Of course, that was usually after curfew, but her mother was certainly in no position to throw stones about __that._

_Would you go to sleep already?  She glared from her hiding place around the corner.  Surely he was growing tired.  Or he could go hunting for errant Gryffindors, or those two Hufflepuffs she had seen snogging in an alcove on the fifth floor.  Hell, if he would just go searching for her elsewhere in the castle she might be able to manage it.  Never had she met a more infuriating person than this younger version of her father.  If she cared to be honest with herself (__and she didn't, thank you very much) she would have to admit that her biggest problem was that this man wasn't firmly wrapped around her little finger.  She was used to being the darling of his world, able to get her way in most things with just a smile.  In her happy little world there were two versions of Severus Snape; the dreaded Potions Master whose acerbic wit could strip paint from the walls and the loving man who adored his wife and daughter with all his heart.  Right now, however, she was stuck trying to figure out how to deal with the man who was not only the dreaded Potions Master but also a man who had to come to terms that he was destined to find himself bound in matrimony to a student who was still underage.  And, worst of all, he certainly didn't adore Antigone Snape.  A rather bruising blow to the pride, that._

A moving shadow from inside the lighted room caught her attention and she pulled back just enough that she could see him leave.  He scowled at nothing in particular, then turned and moved away from her in the direction of the potions classroom.  _That's it.  Keep moving.  Keeeeep moving.  He turned and vanished around the corner.  Counting to five before daring to move herself, she rounded the corner and padded quickly on her sock feet, her shoes clutched in one hand so that they didn't echo on the stone floor.  She stopped in front of the tapestry that marked the doorway to the Slytherin common room and took a breath before whispering "Conquest" and dashing in the moment the doorway was open.  Once inside, she slipped her shoes back on and made her way into the main room, breathing a sigh of relief._

"Where have you been?"  She sighed as Malfoy's annoying drawl reached her ears.  She turned to see him watching her suspiciously.

"In the library."  She didn't really see that it was any of his business, but she did try to keep her voice civil.  "Did I miss something?"

"You left Potions with Granger.  You ought to be careful who you spend your time with.  She nothing more than a little mudblood, and a friend of Potter's as well."  _Did he just call her mother…?  "Best to avoid the Gryffindors all together, just to be safe."_

About them the other Slytherin students were nodding their agreement at this.  They were like obedient little soldiers, falling in line behind his lead.  With a swagger he cross the room and stood beside her, moving his arm to drape it about her shoulders.  No small feat, since he was shorter than she.  Whoever thought that those irritating Snape genes would come in handy?  "Of course, we understand why you didn't know.  You've only just arrived, and we all understand that the Yanks aren't always… proper, in their behavior.  All you need is someone to show you the ropes, help you learn which are the right sort.  I can help you there." 

Of course, she had heard that line before.  Uncle Harry and Ron had laughed over how this self same boy had said it on the train their first year.  Ron still grinned from ear to ear as he recalled Harry's firm "I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thank you."  She could tell why they didn't like Malfoy.  _I never liked him much either.  He always struck me as a dirty old man.  She looked at his pale hand where it rested on her shoulder and wondered if she would have to burn this uniform now._

"You know," she began, grasping his wrist with her hand and removing it, "for someone who is little more than a sawed off little runt, your mouth certainly flaps a lot."  She looked down at him as she brushed her shoulder.  All about them she could hear the gasps and outraged mutterings of the other students, but her eyes stayed on him.  His own narrowed in menace.

"And for someone whose circumstances of birth aren't quite clear, you certainly put on airs."  He took a step back and raked his eyes over her as though he found her lacking in some respect.  "I find it odd that your mother apparently never married your father.  Could it be that she was just as greasy and homely as your uncle?"

The murmurs in the common room became tense.  Some students were still sided with Malfoy.  Others were ill at ease now the family of their head of house was being brought into question.  Antigone let the strap of her book satchel slide down her shoulder, letting the burden fall to rest in a squashy chair nearby.  "I'd be careful what I say if I were you, Malfoy.  That's a teacher you're besmirching."  Her voice was soft, but sadly lacking her father's silky purr.  She wasn't half as good at intimidation as he was, but at this moment she really didn't care.

"Or maybe," a malevolent gleam shone in his blue-grey eyes, "maybe you've got every right to claim the Snape family name.  Maybe you've got more right to it than anyone else."  Her eyes narrowed as he grinned.  "Antigone…"  He rolled her name over his tongue like a fine wine, and she felt herself stiffen as she realized the avenue he was about to take.  "Where does that name come from?  Some play or something, wasn't it?  A yes," he smiled broadly, "a Greek tragedy.  She was the daughter of Oedipus, wasn't she?  And of course we all know that his wife…"

He got no further, mainly because at that moment one of her fists connected with his nose.  He fell to the ground, stunned, and she leapt atop him with a scream of rage.  The common room erupted into shouts of both excitement and horror.  It wasn't a fair match.  She was taller and heavier than he, and at the moment she had the upper hand.  In her rage, she didn't even understand her own words as she shouted ever obscenity she had ever heard at him as she hit him again, then grasped him by his pale hair and raised his head to slam it back down into the floor.  Hands grabbed her, trying to pull her off.  She threw them from her with a growl, and then gripped both of her hands together into a double fist.  She started it downward towards Draco's shocked face, but the hands were back, tearing her upwards and pulling her away.  Her arms were twisted behind her, leaving her to attempt to break free by kicking at her captors.  Others were pulling Malfoy to his feet and getting him to the other side of the common room, away from her.

The door to the common room opened and something large, black and menacing swooped in.  Antigone didn't care; she was still trying to break free, trying to get a Malfoy so she could finish the job.  She was pretty sure she had broken his nose, and blood streamed down his face.  He seemed disoriented that someone had actually struck him, let alone a girl.  Pansy was cooing over him and shooting hate filled glares at her.  Fine with her.  She'd break that ugly little tart's nose, too!

"What is the meaning of this?"  Everyone froze, but the ones holding her only allowed themselves a moment once they realized that she, apparently, wasn't affected by Snape's velvet-on-steel tone.  She was barely aware that he looked at her before walking over to Malfoy and tilting his chin up to examine his face.  "Take him to the infirmary."  Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy began to gently escort him from the common room as he walked towards Antigone.   His hand wrapped itself firmly around the upper part of her arm.  She stopped struggling the instant Draco was no longer visible, and then lifted her face to look at her father.  Even in the muted firelight of the room she could tell that he was furious.  "Come with me."

She ignored the fact that everyone remaining in the common room stared after them.  Ignored the fact that her father was as angry as she had ever seen him before.  She focused only on the stinging sensation in her hand and remembering how satisfying it had felt when the cartilage in Malfoy's nose and crunched underneath her knuckles.

~***~

He didn't say a word to her during the trip from the common room to his own chambers.  This was not going to be a discussion for his office.  Students were too likely to sneak out and press their ears against the door, but none of them knew where his rooms were hidden.  Nor were they likely to hear him when he started yelling.  Antigone didn't seem to be all that concerned about what was coming.  She was quiet and sullen during their walk, no doubt still fuming over whatever it was Malfoy had said to set her off.

They stopped at a painting of a medieval witch astride a great dragon.  Severus muttered a quiet "draconis morte" and the painting swung open.  Touching his hand to the heavy oak door now revealed, he allowed the charms there to recognize his presence so that it, too, swung open.  "Inside."  She entered, still not saying a word.  He closed the door behind both of them and walked further into the sitting room that made up the first part of his suite.  There were two comfortable chairs here, both seated in front of a fireplace with a small table and chessboard between them.  "Sit."  Still silent, she obeyed.

He took the chair opposite of her, allowing his elbows to rest on the arms.  Tenting his fingers, he examined her over the point for a long, silent moment.  "Explain."

"PMS?"  She wasn't looking at him, but she didn't look exactly remorseful either.  Her eyes were fixated on the chessboard.

"Somehow I doubt that.  What did he say?"

"Actually, he didn't say anything.  I'm just a bitch."  Now she met his eyes, and he recognized the look in her own all too well.  It was the same simmering, barely controlled rage he had suffered from himself at her age.  But even he had required a spark to set off the flames.

"Antigone, I am in no mood for games.  I have to determine how I am to correct the damage you have wrought this night.  You are intelligent enough not to attack a fellow student without good cause."

"He was breathing.  That's cause enough for a Malfoy."

"Be that as it may, I need to know what was said or done that you attacked him."  She looked back at the chessboard, falling silent again.  He allowed his eyes to move over her, studying her body language.  Her hands had taken hold of the arms of her chair the moment she sat down and remained there now, the finger tips digging into the carved wooden ends until the blood was squeezed from them.  She was in a fury still, a murderous one.  If she were anything like he was at that age, and he was beginning to suspect that she was, she would likely attack Malfoy again unless he diffused her.  "Antigone…"  He let his voice trail off in an implied threat.

"He insulted me."

"That much I have surmised, but what was the nature of the insult?"

"He said my name… he _implied that my name had meaning.  He hinted that you and Aunt Veloria…" she trailed off this time, unable to voice the sentence.  She swallowed, failing to continue, but it was enough that he gathered her meaning._

"Surprising.  I wouldn't have thought that Mr. Malfoy was cultured enough to have read Sophecles."

She looked up, her mouth open.  "Is that all you can say?"  He arched a brow at her tone.

"Would you rather announce your mother's true identity?  Somehow I suspect that you haven't enlightened her as to your relationship, or have you?"  The reaction on her face confirmed this.  "Of course, I'm not entirely sure which is the better scenario; incest or pedophilia."  She gave an outraged yelp.

"That's ridiculous!  She wasn't even a student!  She was a teacher!"

"Oh, so I at least have the decency to wait until she's grown?"  She rolled her eyes in response, but he noted that she had released the death grip on her chair.  "I must admit, I always considered myself to have better taste than to choose a Gryffindor as a wife.  They're entirely too foolhardy."

"Hey!"  She stood up suddenly.  "I'm a Gryffindor in case you've forgotten."

"Ah yes, and starting a brawl with the son of one of the more feared wizarding families in England isn't foolhardy at all."

She scowled, which made her look amazingly like his elder sister now that he considered it, and sat back down with a growl, crossing her arms.  "He deserved it."

"I agree, and what's more so will his father.  He may spoil Draco, but he still expects a certain degree of behavior.  Insulting his Head of House is not likely to make Lucius very happy."  He leaned back in his chair, the corners of his mouth turning upwards briefly.  "Of course, there is the matter of your punishment to be seen to.  How do I handle your… escapades in the future?"

She scowled further.  "Large escapades or small ones?"

"There's a difference?  Well, considering that you were provoked, I'd consider this a small one."

"Cataloging your store room."

"Really?  That could take most of an evening.  What do I do when you've had a… large escapade?"

She grimaced.  "You assign me to helping Filch."  From the look on her face, she apparently considered this a fate worse than death.

"Interesting.  I am not going to ask, however, just how much trouble you get into that I have set punishments for you.  I'm not entirely sure I want to know the answer.  Doubtless your 'Uncle Harry' has been a bad influence on you."  Her only reaction was a petulant frown.  He looked at the clock on the wall and pondered silently.  "There are no classes tomorrow, and it would not be safe for you to return to your dormitory tonight."  Pulling his wand from his sleeve, he pointed it at an ottoman a few feet away.  Muttering a spell, the piece of furniture shifted and expanded until it was a comfortable bed complete with linens.  His daughter frowned at it, and then looked at him questioningly.

"Slytherins, especially the ones in this day and age, make an art form of vengeance.  However, teenagers are short tempered and violent, they lack subtlety.  For this evening, at least, you will stay here.  Unless, of course, you wish to take your chances in hopes that you won't have your throat cut in your sleep."  She shook her head quickly and muttered a soft 'thank you.'  "I do appreciate your ire at Malfoy, Antigone, I assure you.  However, believe me when I tell you that your temper will lead you down a troubled and darkened path.  I know this from experience, and you would do well to learn from my mistakes."

She sighed, and he got the feeling that this was an old and worn lecture between them.  "I know, Papa.  I try; I really do, but in my defense allow me to point out that Draco Malfoy grows up to be a lecherous man without a decent bone in his body.  This isn't the first time that I've had to avoid his advances, although he's at least my age this time."

The same dark rage he had just warned her against bubbled up inside him, but he shoved it back down with practiced force.  "Well, that is certainly something I shall have to remember for the future.  Don't worry, I wouldn't let him near you now and I won't stomach him to be near you in the future."  _And if I catch him trying I'll geld the bastard._

She smiled, her anger having faded and weariness set it.  He muttered another spell and her uniform transfigured into a classically Victorian night gown and night robe.  She looked down at her new garments and blushed, suddenly seeming much smaller than she was.  Sitting down on her temporary bed, she shrugged off the robe and draped it over the chair she had been sitting in.  "He's going to be very angry with me, isn't he?  Mr. Malfoy, I mean."

"He'll be disappointed, but as I said, he will be angrier at Draco for his lack of tact.  However, now that you've proven yourself to be rather unladylike, I doubt he'll be as interested in making you part of his family."  He noted with some amusement that she wrinkled her nose in obvious distaste.  "I will take care of Lucius Malfoy.  Don't worry yourself over it."  He motioned for the sconces on the wall to dim as she pulled the coverlet over her, laying her head down on a thick pillow.  The dungeons were chilly at best, but with the heart still lit she would remain reasonably warm.  "Now sleep, Antigone."  He turned and walked towards the door leading to his bed chamber.  He was almost there when…

"Tigga."

"What?"  He turned about and looked at the form silhouetted in the firelight, unable to make out her face in the shadows.

"At home… in my time… you call me 'Tigga'."

His smile was slight, but there.  "Good night, Tigga."  And then, he was gone.


	6. Chapter Six

_Don't Blame Me, I Just Study Here_

Hermione Granger was worried.  Hiding worry was something she had never done very well, but without Ron or Harry sitting at the table with her, no one seemed to notice that she wasn't touching her breakfast outside of a half-hearted nibble at her toast.  No one noticed that her eyes often drifted over to the Slytherin table, scanning the people there and not finding the one she was seeking.  No one noticed that she often nibbled on her bottom lip or that she worried one of her many errant, frizzy locks between her fingers.  

Where was Antigone Snape?

She had spent most of Friday evening in the library with the newest member of the student body.  They had been alone there, just the two of them and Madame Pince, the librarian.  All the other students were enjoying the evening, staying up late since they wouldn't have classes the following morning.  It had been, in her estimation of things, an almost perfect evening.  Antigone was very clever and didn't grow bored with studying or want to gossip about boys or hair or makeup.  After all this time at Hogwarts, Hermione had felt that she had finally found a kindred spirit.  She was very good in Potions, though she admitted that came mostly from family talent.  She also seemed grateful to have found someone so very skilled in Charms, since she admitted that it was her second weakest subject.  When asked what her worst subject was, she had honestly responded with Care of Magical Creatures.

"We Snapes aren't very much adored by animals, magical or otherwise.  We get along fine with reptiles or cats, the ones that don't require a lot of affection or care, but most other warm blooded creatures could take us or leave us.  It's a real pity.  I'd rather like to have a puppy or a horse, but I couldn't manage to do it.  They simply don't respect me."

"You don't have a familiar, then?"

"Oh, I had one, but I couldn't bring him with me.  A red and black python.  I named him Pi."

"Pie?  Do you always name your pets after food?"  To Hermione's confusion, the taller girl had laughed.  

"No, 'Pi', P-I.  As in Pi R Squared."

"Oh!"  She had blinked, and then laughed as well.  It rather sounded like something she would have named one of her pets.  Actually, had Crookshanks not come with his own name, he most likely would have been dubbed 'Einstein' or 'Hawkins', two of the Muggle scientists she revered the most.  "I've never heard of a red and black python before."

"Oh, he didn't come that way.  My mother charmed him that color because I hate green."

The thought of someone charming a snake to change its color struck her as oddly funny.  She had started to giggle.  "Y… you hate green?  Why?"

"Well, nothing good was ever green, was it?  Broccoli, lima beans, cabbage, all the worst vegetables are green.  Quite put me off the color all together."  The girl had been very serious as she spoke. "And have you ever noticed how all the worst hexes have a greenish sort of aura about them, and the nastiest potions are green as well."

"I never thought of it that way before."  Hermione had remembered that Slytherins were green, but had felt it best not to point this out to her new friend.

They had taken apart Antigone's class schedule and Hermione promised to get the girl a copy of her notes for the year so far so that she could bring herself up to speed.  "You'll like Professor Flitwick.  He's very patient when it comes to helping the students understand the lessons.  If he can find the strength of will to help Neville and Seamus, he can find the time to help you as well.  I'm sure you won't need nearly as much attention as they do."

They had discussed essays that were due the following week and poured over books from the crowded shelves.  Both had quite forgotten the time until Madame Pince had come to them during her last round of inspection and sharply reminded them that curfew was less than half an hour away.  Not a large challenge for Antigone, since she had a downstairs trek to the dungeons, but the Gryffindor dormitories were several flights up in one of the castle's tallest towers.  

"We can pick up here again after breakfast in the morning, if you like."  

The taller girl had smiled and nodded.  "I would like that.  I'll see you then."  She looked as if she was going to say something more, then had shaken her head as though to herself, an expression in her eyes that hinted as a possible secret she was clutching tightly to her in her eyes.  "Good night."  

Now it was the next day, and there was no sign of Antigone.  Worse, there were rumors floating about the school that something had happened last night in the Slytherin common room.  Hermione felt a twinge of guilt, remembering that most of the Slytherin students considered her beneath them, a "mudblood" who would dirty their hands if they got too close to her.  She hoped that she hadn't caused any trouble between Antigone and her classmates.  Harry and Ron were late for breakfast, having decided to start interrogating the portraits for the news.  Hogwarts' artwork was made up almost entirely of hopeless gossips, and there was a painting of three witches that was known to always have the best tales.

She felt something like an intangible weight upon her and looked up towards the staff table.  The Potions Master was watching her silently from his place next to Professor McGonagall, his expression unreadable.  He met her eyes for a moment, and then lowered his attention back to his plate.  A frown crossed her forehead.  Had his niece done something to deserve punishment?  If she did have something to do with Antigone's absence from breakfast, then no doubt Professor Snape would find a way to lay the blame at her feet.  She sincerely hoped not.  She didn't need any more hurdles to jump in his class.

Finally, she decided that sitting and waiting would do no further good.  With a sigh, she pushed herself away from the table, the remainder of her breakfast untouched, and went off to search for her new friend.  The most logical place was the dungeons, and since most of the Slytherin students were in the Great Hall, she felt rather safe heading down there alone.  Shouldering her satchel of books, she made her way to the door leading to the dungeons and went through.  

There was an unsettling feeling abut the dungeons.  The walls were always slightly damp and there was always the scent of earth about them.  The torches on the walls were always lit since no sunlight could find its way here.  It was no wonder that Professor Snape was always so pale.  When did he have a chance to tan?  This thought only crossed her mind briefly as she walked on.  She didn't know where the entrance to Slytherin House was, but somehow she didn't feel as if she needed to know.  Her feet were moving as if on their own accord, almost as if she already knew where the other girl was.  She walked past rarely used classrooms and long deserted holding chambers until she came to the room where they attended their classes.  The door was slightly ajar and she could hear someone singing in a rusty, off-key voice.  The song had a light hearted feel to it, but she didn't recognize the language it was in.  Feeling confident she had found her quarry, she pushed the door open.

A light poured from the large student storeroom where potions ingredients were kept, a shadow moving within.  Hermione made her way over to find Antigone, singing her odd little song and making notes on a piece of parchment.  She cleared her throat to get the other girl's attention.

"Oh!  I didn't expect you to come down here."  Antigone smiled brightly as she turned to face the other girl.  Hermione saw that she was writing down ingredients and amounts onto the parchment.  

"Inventory?"

Antigone made a face and nodded.  "Punishment for fighting last night."

"You got into a fight?"  Hermione's heart plummeted.  She had gotten her into trouble.  The girl didn't seem all that upset about it, though.

"Yep.  Can you believe he got upset over a little thing like breaking Draco Malfoy's nose?  I mean, honestly, who wouldn't want to?"  She grinned brightly again, not a bit remorseful at her actions.  Suddenly, Hermione didn't feel so bad about it any longer.  "I'm almost finished, here.  There hasn't been enough time to deplete the stores too badly yet."  Indeed, she was already on the Ws, and there weren't many things left after that.  

"How long have you been at this?"  Hermione looked at row upon row of ingredients.  It should have taken hours.

"Oh, since about four this morning.  His Royal Grumpiness woke up early this morning and figured I might as well roll out of bed, too."

"You really shouldn't talk about your uncle like that."

"Why not?  It's the truth.  Well, it is today, anyway."  She turned back around and started again where she left off.  "Don't misunderstand me.  I adore him, but he's not being the easiest person to love right now."

Hermione stepped further into the storeroom and sat down on a stool a few feet away from the other girl.  "Well, you were fighting.  Did you really break Malfoy's nose?"

"He was certainly bleeding enough.  I'm sure Madame Pomfrey put him back together, though.  She's rather talented."  Hermione found this odd coming from the new girl, considering that she really hadn't been here long enough to have been on the receiving end of Madame Pomfrey's skills.  

"It's not smart to provoke Malfoy.  His father is very powerful."

  


"So I've heard."  She marked the last item onto the parchment, and then looked up at Hermione.  "And I know I shouldn't have lost my temper, but he had it coming."

"What did he do?"

"He cast aspersions on my family.  My… uncle… says that he feels confident that Draco's father will be more upset with him for that then he will be with me for hitting him.  It was a rather nasty aspersion, after all." She finished with the last jar, making a note of how much was needed to fill it completely before setting it back upon the shelf so that its label was facing front.  

"What did he say?"

"He insinuated that my uncle and father were the same man, with my mother still being the same woman.  Got the idea from my name."  The taller girl sat down on the floor of the storage closet, crossing her legs and looking up at Hermione. 

"Really?  That's surprising.  I didn't think Draco Malfoy read anything except Quidditch manuals and dirty magazines."  The Gryffindor girl paused, considering this.  "I don't know why he'd feel the need to take that route, well, actually I do.  He's just an annoying prat.  Still, I rather like 'Antigone'. I have ever since I read the play."

The other girl beamed. "Thank you.  My mother's rather fond of it as well."  Hermione caught a glimpse of that same light as the previous night, as though Antigone Snape knew some secret about her that she was closely guarding.  It made her frown, wondering if she truly did know something, or if the girl was just being a Slytherin.

"Now that you're finished, do you think Professor Snape will let you come with me to the library?  I have those notes to lend you."

"As long as the only place she goes is the library."

Both girls scrambled to their feet and whirled to see the Potions Master standing outside the storeroom door.  His black eyes rested on Hermione, something in his expression making her feel suddenly uncomfortable, as though she had just been caught stealing potions ingredients.  Of course, she had at one point in time, but that had been ages ago and he had never caught her.  He then directed his gaze to his niece, eyes lowering to silently point out that there was dust from the floor on her skirt and legs.  She began to brush the fabric vigorously to clean it off. 

"I finished the inventory."  Antigone handed over the parchment with its names and amounts.  "M… Hermione was coming to remind me that we were to study together this morning.  She's helping me get caught up."  Hermione noted that a secretive, dark look passed from the professor to Antigone.  He seemed to be warning her of something, but just because she almost called her 'Miss Granger'?  Surely he couldn't object to students using the given names of one another.

"I see.  Very well, you may go.  However, you are only allowed to go to the library, the Great Hall and here.  You will complete your detention tonight by brewing potions for the infirmary."  Antigone nodded, though Hermione felt that if she had been serving detention since four in the morning, she had more than made up for socking Malfoy in the nose.  "Tomorrow you will join the Slytherin house team in practice."

Both girls froze?  "P... practice?"

Hermione though she saw a smug little smirk tug at the corners of Professor Snape's mouth.  "Yes.  As punishment for insulting a teacher, Mr. Malfoy has been suspended from the house team.  Naturally, we need a new seeker."  The humor was quickly gone, replaced by his usual sneer.  "Do not think of this as a reward.  If you were not here to step into his place, he would still be on the team.  Now get out, both of you."

Neither girl needed further prompting.  Hermione's hand gripped her satchel tightly as she and Antigone bolted from the storeroom, out of the classroom door and down the hall.  They paused just long enough for Antigone to grab her own books from Snape's private quarters (so that's where he lives) before continuing.  A couple of Slytherin students were in the dungeon corridors, but they ignored them as they passed by.  Bursting up through the door that separated the dungeons from the rest of the castle, they ran down the open corridors towards the library.

"There they are!"  The girls skidded to a halt as Seamus and Dean appeared from a corridor to their right.  The boys stopped, trying to catch their breath.  Seamus grinned up at them widely as Harry, Ron and Neville hurried to catch up.  "We've been looking everywhere for you."

Hermione frowned, puzzled as Seamus continued to beam at Antigone.  Harry slid to a halt along the stone floor, a mischievous light in his green eyes.  "Just the person we wanted to see.  We've got something for you."

Antigone gave Hermione a half puzzled, half concerned look before turning back to Harry.  "What, exactly?"

Ron produced a small box from somewhere inside his robes and squared his shoulders, looking rather important.  Harry cleared his throat as the rest of the boys fell silent. "Miss Antigone Snape of Slytherin House, it has been brought to our attention that last night you performed a feat of the greatest of magnitude.  Thanks to your short temper and stunning right hook, we're assuming, you could be leftie for all we know, the fiend known as Draco Malfoy has been put firmly in his place."  He turned to Ron who opened the box, revealing a shiny, golden badge that appeared to be modeled somewhat off of Hermione's prefect badge.  "It is with more pleasure than this humble gathering could ever possibly posses that we present you with the first ever 'Order of the Marauders, First Class'."

Neville piped up with a grin.  "Hip Hip!"

"Hooray!" shouted the other boys as Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Don't encourage her!  She's in enough trouble as it is!"  Still, Harry took the badge from the box and reached up to pin it onto Antigone's robes.  The one being awarded was trying very hard not to burst into giggles, and found it much easier to banish them once Hermione turned her disapproving glare upon her. "Now, if you're quite through with this bit of silliness, Professor Snape expects her to be in the library when she's not at meals.  I'd best get her there before she ends up in trouble again."  She grabbed hold of the other girl's wrist and pulled her away, the boys still cheering behind them.

"You'll have to bring her to Gryffindor Tower tonight, Hermione!  We're throwing a party in her honor!"  This from Dean, the one boy she always thought she could count on to keep a level head.  Well… so much for that idea.  Honestly, what was it about boys and fisticuffs that turned them all into complete idiots?


	7. Chapter Seven

_Oops!  Did I Say That?_

One thing about food at Hogwarts, it was ever so much better than her mother's cooking.  Antigone had never been able to figure out how her mother could be such an atrocious cook when she was so good at everything else.  Even the spiteful looks coming from Malfoy and his cohorts couldn't dampen her enthusiasm for dinner that evening.  Succulent roasts, buttery potatoes, warm sweet breads, more delights than she remembered in her own time.  Of course, that could be because she was starving.  After all, she'd only gotten one meal the day before, thanks to both morning and evening detentions (not to mention the party in Gryffindor Tower), and she had been so tired after staying up to brew potions that she had slept right through breakfast today.  Then, of course, there had been Quidditch practice.

The Nimbus 2001 wasn't as fast as her Quantum 500, but it was fun all the same.  Malfoy's broom was surprisingly obedient, given that its usual rider wasn't the one on it.  Perhaps it just liked girls.  Malfoy himself had come to practice to sit in the stands and watch with a sullen expression as she caught the snitch each and every time it was released in less time than it ever took him.  Of course, she had been given her pointers in Quidditch by the Seeker of the British National Team and hadn't learned it at school.  She wondered how he would have responded to the knowledge of just how far Harry Potter would go in life.

Sunday night ended with her making her way to her father's quarters and into the new room that he and Aunt Minerva (must remember to call her Professor McGonagall) had transfigured for her.  After the fight, it had been decided she would be safer in her father's apartments than in the dormitories where she would have to constantly watch for the occasional hex or curse thrown at her by Malfoy's sycophants.  She had just changed into her nightgown when her father came into the room.

"You have completed your assignments for the week?"

"Yes, Papa. Mum and I finished them up yesterday."  She saw him flinch and bit her own tongue in silent admonishment.  He seemed to struggle with himself for a moment before speaking again.

"You should refrain from speaking of Miss Granger as your… as your mother.  You might let it slip in the presence of one of the other students.  Should the wrong people learn of it, it would put her in unneeded danger."

She nodded.  "Yes, sir.  You're right, of course."  She licked her lips and looked back up at her father.  "Practice went well today.  We should really flatten them next Saturday."  She emphasized the last word by smacking a fist into her other hand.  To her pleasure, her father's lips turned up at the corners. 

"I know.  I was watching you from the Astronomy Tower.  You're quite good, far better than Lucius' brat.  It will be interesting to see which is the better Seeker, you or Potter, especially since you have no doubt learned a few tricks from his older self."

"More than a few."  She grinned, no longer worried at her father's reaction to his future wife.  "He goes professional eventually.  Takes his team to the World Cup twice by the time you and M… Hermione allow me on a broom."

He studied her with those eyes that were so much like her own, silent for a long moment.  "Well… then we shall see what unfolds on Saturday.  Into bed with you.  You're no doubt exhausted after this weekend, and I know you got little sleep last night.  You don't seem to be suffering from a hangover so I take it that the Gryffindors didn't sneak any liquor into their party last night."  She gasped, and he smiled.  "You'll find, Tigga, that there is little you will ever do that I am not fully aware of.  You're a bit too troublesome for me not to keep a close eye on you."  He left her standing there in muted shock as he turned and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

~***~

He didn't know why he hadn't marched up to Gryffindor Tower and dragged his errant offspring back to the dungeons on Saturday night.  He had been fully aware she was there, thanks to a little charm he had cast upon her the first night she slept in his quarters.  It was linked to a crystal he now wore tucked under his robes and allowed him to track her movements about the castle.  It had been prudent after she had earned so many enemies in her own House that night.  In spite of the rules he had laid down for himself when she had appeared in this time, he found he was becoming quite attached to this child of his, and he felt the need to protect her at all costs.

_And why shouldn't I?  He downed the last swallow of brandy and set the tumbler down on his desk.  __Why shouldn't I care what happens to my own flesh and blood?  She was what he had needed for some time now, proof that his life would turn around for the better.  Evidence that he would eventually redeem himself of his past enough that he could have what every normal man wanted; a family.  Of course, he would never have imagined that his family would one day include Hermione Granger, Minerva's precious and prized student._

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.  He rather doubted that Minerva had yet reasoned out the relationship between Antigone and Hermione.  That was probably for the better as far as he was concerned.  That particular witch was too skilled in Transfigurations for his taste, and he didn't relish being turned into a toad because she suspected him of molesting one of her Gryffindors.  To be truthful, he was having trouble wrapping his mind around the concept of having _that particular girl as his wife himself.  He had watched her closely ever since he had figured out the truth, and he could honestly say that he felt nothing towards her other than the proper feelings of a teacher towards his student._

_Of course, she's still a child yet, and it is some time before Tigga is born.  He couldn't deny that Hermione Granger was a promising young witch with a staggering amount of potential.  He had also forced himself to admit that there was a promise of beauty there as well.  Once she had grown up a bit more, she would be a devastation on the male population of the wizarding world.  __And apparently I'm the lucky fool to be at Ground Zero.  There are worse fates that to spend the rest of your days with a young wife who also possesses such a sharp mind.  I must do something blindingly right in the future.  It was a pleasant thought to dwell on as he went to bed, but it was forgotten by the time pale sunlight filtered in through the narrow window high over his bed. _

Apparently he was never destined to become a morning person, because Antigone had quickly made it a habit to secure a carafe of black coffee, double strength, each morning.  It was waiting on him on his desk along with two pieces of white toast dressed in butter and strawberry jam.  Ever the dutiful and considerate daughter, it was almost enough to make him feign ignorance about the shiny little badge she now kept pinned to the front of her book satchel.  Almost, but not quite.  He insisted she remove it and put it somewhere out of his sight before he would let her leave their quarters for breakfast.  The little minx thought she could outsmart him by tucking it into an inner pocket of her robe, but as long as he didn't have to look at it through Potions, he was satisfied.

A frown creased his forehead as he stared unseeing at a stack of essays in desperate need of grading.  Potions meant that Hermione and Antigone would likely be sitting with one another again.  The pair seemed to be bonding in traditional ways for girls of the same age, and it wasn't every girl who got the chance to know her mother on a non-parental basis.  Still, he had to admit it bothered him, watching them together, their heads bent over a sheaf of notes as identical sets of hands moved over ingredients.  With her eyes hidden, he could see very little of himself in the girl outside of the willowy build and ungainly height.  It wasn't until she would straighten up that she stopped looking so much like the girl destined to be her mother, a constant reminder of what was to come.  On the other hand, he couldn't bring himself to separate them.  To pair Antigone up with one of the other students would be to handicap her, as well as serve to give a lazy student an undeserving edge.  He was not one to use the intelligent students to shore up the abysmal ones.  

As for the rest of her classes, his daughter was proving to be as brilliant as both of her parents.  Hagrid had to admit that she did have trouble in Care of Magical Creatures, but that was only with the actual creatures themselves.  This didn't surprise him, since Snapes usually didn't have much luck with anything warm blooded.  Flitwick noted that she struggled with Charms, but she made up for a lack of natural talent through sheer will and determination to excel at her assignments.  Another trait she had in common with her father.  Perhaps she wasn't so unlike him after all.

As for the enmity she had earned from her fellow Slytherins, he admitted to himself that this didn't disturb him too much.  Many of the students were destined to become Death Eaters, and he did not wish for his child to make the same blundering mistakes he did in his youth.  Better that she take after her mother in that respect.  Hermione Granger was unerringly loyal to Dumbledore, and there were far worse people to pledge loyalty to.  He had proven in his past to have poor judgment when it came to choosing sides, though experience had taught him better.  He hoped that, as a father, he could teach his daughter to learn from his own mistakes.

His daughter.  He would admit that he would have preferred a son, someone to carry on the family name.  Still, a daughter was quite pleasant.  Daughters worshipped the ground their fathers walked on whereas sons tended to favor their mothers.  Daughters were more likely to remain loyal to their fathers after they had grown whereas sons tended to chafe under even the gentlest advice and charge on with their own lives bull headedly.  He had been a typical son, never wanting to listen to his own father, even when he had tried to warn him of the path he was starting down.  Miss Granger, he knew, was a typical daughter.  He had seen it in correspondence he had received from her parents in regards to questions they had about her education and heard it in bits of overheard conversations that referenced them.  On the other hand, it was also said that daughters married their fathers, or rather men that were much like their fathers.  He wondered what there was about himself that was like Mr. Granger, and he would hope Antigone had better sense than to ever marry any man who was too much like Severus Snape.

~***~

Antigone was seated at the very end of the Slytherin table, a good space between herself and the other students.  It was Saturday, _the Saturday, the day she would fly against Harry Potter as Seeker.  It was the one day she could depend on the Slytherins to leave her alone, since they were just as eager to win this match as she was, albeit for different reasons.  They wanted the pleasure of trouncing Gryffindor.  She wanted the chance to fly against her mentor on a level playing field._

_Poor Mum.  This is driving her batty.  Hermione didn't know who to cheer for.  On one hand, Harry Potter was her dear and close friend, had been since her first year.  He was also a fellow Gryffindor and it was her house team playing.  On the other hand, Antigone was a new and dear friend, and someone who understood her on an intellectual level.  She didn't tease her about how much she studied or obsessed over assignments, being just as obsessive herself, and didn't mind spending an entire weekend shut up in the library.  She wanted both of her friends to win, but that wasn't possible._

There was a good hour or so before the game.  It was enough time to let the meal settle so that it wouldn't be a bother.  She made her way to the Quidditch pitch and into the locker room.  Since there were no other girls on the Slytherin team (_sexist pigs!), she had the girls' lockers all to herself.  She made a face at the green robes, thinking that they were just the color of broccoli but without the cheese sauce, before slipping them on.  __It's only for a short while.  Soon Albus will find a way to send me back home and I'll be back in good ole red.  The only downside she could see about flying for Slytherin was that she'd be winning for Slytherin.  That couldn't be helped, however.  If Albus figured out how to send her back soon enough, Uncle Harry would have time to correct the little oversight._

The thought that she might actually _lose didn't even enter her mind._

Malfoy's Nimbus 2001 flew into her hand as though it were a faithful hound rushing towards his mistress.  She smirked a bit.  Brooms, over time, were known to become used to a single rider if they weren't changing hands often.  The old school brooms were used to being used by anyone and everyone, but the Quidditch brooms were usually the property of the player, since they'd be all but useless to the next student who tried to ride them.  Malfoy must not treat his broom well, since it seemed eager to be in the hands of someone else.  Temperamental things, magical items.

She waited in the corridor with the rest of the team.  They didn't speak to her, unwilling to upset their Seeker after watching her in practice.  She was better than Malfoy, maybe even as good as Potter.  It wouldn't be wise to wreck their chances now.  The doors opened to the sound of cheers, and they mounted their broomsticks before kicking off.  Antigone ignored the rest of the team, losing herself in the feeling of the air rushing through her shoulder length hair and the sound of the cheering crowd.  Of course, three of the houses were cheering for the Gryffindors, but that didn't matter.  She could imagine they were cheering for her.  

Madam Hooch came out onto the field.  Tigga had seen her before this and had been floored by the fact that she still looked the same age in her time, not even an added wrinkle.  Of course, Madam Hooch was over one hundred years old in this time, and with those eyes, Tigga suspected that she wasn't entirely human.  She had never been able to find out just what else she was, however, other than bloody brilliant on a broomstick.  She heard the sound of the silver whistle the woman always wore around her neck and immediately began looking for the Snitch.

"I really like you, Antigone.  I hate the fact that I'm going to have to beat you."

She grinned, her eyes still roaming the field for the Snitch as she suspected his were as well.  "Famous last words, Harry.  Besides, it's about time you lost."

"Isn't happening."  She resisted the urge to look at him and grin.  This was Quidditch; she didn't have time to engage in banter with the enemy Seeker.  

Her own team was using every dirty trick in the book.  One of the Chasers deliberately tried to knock Harry off his broom, giving the Gryffindor team a penalty.  Then a Beater purposefully attacked a Chaser with a club, no Bludger in sight, earning another penalty for Gryffindor.  After the attempt to get rid of the Gryffindor Keeper and another attempt against Harry, she had stopped keeping count of how many penalties the Slytherins were amassing.  She would play by the rules even if they wouldn't.

A glint of gold caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. Instinctively she turned her broom and started towards it, Harry catching on quickly.  She knew that the Firebolt was faster than the Nimbus 2001, it was clearly detailed in _A History of Magical Broomsticks in Quidditch by Herman Bagshot, but she was not going to just give up, not even when he caught up with her, and then started to pass her.  She leaned further into the handle of her broomstick, whispering encouraging words to it even though it wasn't likely to help, then noted dimly that she caught up to Harry and began to pass him.  Perhaps whispering to your broomstick did help after all, or perhaps her broomstick was simply tired of being shown up by a Firebolt time and time again.  She didn't question it, she just went with it, following the Snitch and gaining on it as she did so.  The golden ball seemed to grow in size as she neared it, getting closer and closer until she was close enough to stretch out her hand.  She thought she could feel the difference in the wind from the beating wings, but she didn't focus on this as she closed the last few inches and clamped her fingers around the cold metal of the ball.  _

She heard the horn sounding, signaling the end of the match.  The commentator sounded upset at the Slytherin win, but he was nearly drowned out by the roars of the Slytherin students.  She turned her broomstick around to look for Harry, and then froze in mid-hover.  His own broomstick was behaving quite oddly.  She watched as he tried to rein it back under control as it bucked one last time, throwing him off.  With a shriek, she leaned forward and raced towards him, diving all the while and catching him a mere four feet from the ground.  "Harry?"

He gasped, trying to catch his breath.  "Wow… nice flying, Antigone.  You may be up for another medal for this one, an official one this time."  She lowered him the last few feet to the ground.  He looked up and must have seen something written on her face, because he flinched.  She ignored this, jumping off her broom and fighting her way to Madam Hooch.

"Rematch!  I want a rematch!"  Madam Hooch arched a brow at her as the Slytherin team captain gaped at her.

"Rematch?  What for?  You caught the Snitch fair and square?"

"It wasn't fair!" she shot back into the seventh-year's face. "Potter's broom was tampered with!  It wasn't a fair match!"

"Now, now, settle down."  Madam Hooch leveled a gaze at Harry, who swallowed and nodded.  "She's right, Madam Hooch.  My broom was behaving just as it did during my first year."

"Just because you can't handle your broom doesn't mean it was tampered with, Potter!"  The Slytherin boy snarled and took a step towards Harry, his fist clenched tightly.  

"It was a cheat!"  Antigone's own fists were tight as well.  She was taller than her team captain, but he was easily twice her weight.  Still, she was a Gryffindor at heart, all action and little thinking when tensions were high.  "I don't need someone to cheat for me to win a game of Quidditch!"

Black robes came into view as Snape appeared.  "What's going on here?"

Madam Hooch cleared her throat.  "There seems to be a question regarding the legitimacy of the win.  Miss Snape feels that someone on the Slytherin side jinxed Potter's broom."

"A jinx?  Are you certain, girl?"  There was a flash of black and red as Ron and Hermione came towards them as well.  They ran past Snape to move towards Harry and Antigone.

"I'm positive!  Father, you can't let…"  Her eyes flew wide, hands flying up to her mouth as the crowd around them gasped.  Her father's eyes narrowed and she took a step back from him, her broomstick forgotten on the ground.  "I… I'm so sorry… I didn't mean…"

"Inside."  His voice was like a deadly whisper and she could hear the blood pounding in her ears.  

"I really didn't mean…"

"I said, _inside."  He didn't raise his voice, but she could hear the difference in it.  Worse, she could feel the eyes of everyone upon her.  Someone grabbed her wrist firmly and pulled her aside._

"Come on!"  It was Mum, her sweet, ever-ready-for-anything mother.  She felt her legs unfreeze as she was dragged towards the castle, Hermione's hair flowing in her wake.  They didn't stop until they had gone through the front doors, up three flights of steps and into an empty classroom.  Finally, Hermione let go of the grip on Antigone's arm, allowing the taller girl to sink into a chair.

"Oh, I've really done it now.  He's furious!"  She leaned forward, resting her head on her knees and wrapping her hands around her ankles.  Hermione watched, for a moment uncertain of what to do as she watched her friend rock back and forth in the chair, muttering something about Snape planning to kill her.  After a moment, she unfroze herself and knelt down at the girl's side, rubbing her back with one hand and muttering soft words of reassurance to her. 

What, exactly, did you say to comfort the daughter of the Potions Master?


	8. Chapter Eight

_Me and My Big Mouth!_

"He'sgonnakillme! He'sgonnakillme! He'sgonnakillme!"

Hermione wasn't sure what she could do.  Antigone was still gripping her ankles tight, rocking back and forth as much as she could with her forehead plastered to her knees.  "Oh don't be silly!  Of course he isn't!  He's your father!"

Finally, the other girl looked up, her face even paler than usual.  "Did you see his _face!?  He's never been this angry with me before, and I've pulled some pretty wild stunts.  He wasn't even this mad the time I transfigured all of his green boxer shorts into red Speedos."  Her forehead slammed back down onto her knees with an audible *thud*. _

"You transfigured his… never mind."  Hermione leaned forward and wrapped her arms about the girl's shoulders the best that she could.  "He's not going to kill you, he'll probably just yell at you a bit."

"I'd rather he kill me," came the muffled reply.

"Now you're really being an idiot."  She let go of the girl and sat back on her heels.  "Look at me.  Look up."  Obsidian black eyes peered at her from between honey brown strands of hair.  Even through the brown Hermione could see that her eyes and nose were going all blotchy from the tears.  "Your father is not going to kill you.  I've seen him madder than this, and he didn't kill that person either.  Of course, he was going to turn him over to the Dementors, but he didn't kill him."

"And this is supposed to make me feel better?"

"Well, I guess I can see your point in that.  Let's look at this logically.  Why did he not want anyone to know that you're his daughter?"

Antigone sat up and wiped at her nose with the edge of her hand.  Hermione began fishing through her pockets for her handkerchief.  "Because… because he didn't want some of the less… trustworthy people to know.  Oh, thank you."  She accepted the handkerchief and blew her nose.

"Death Eaters."  Antigone blinked in surprise. "Oh, I already know about them.  I know that Professor Snape used to be one and now he's reformed.  From the increase in bad temperament over the past year and all the times he's looked to be at death's door, I'm guessing that he's somehow convinced Voldemort to trust him enough to let him back into the fold.  Well that makes perfect sense.  If I was in such a position, I wouldn't want Voldemort and his followers to know I had a daughter either. "She gave her friend an asking look when the taller girl made a funny, choking noise in the back of her throat.  "He's just looking out for you.  I'll bet he loves you to pieces."

"Wishes to tear me to pieces at the moment, I'm afraid."  She did look a bit calmer, though.  She brushed her hair back out of her eyes.  "I know you're right, though.  He's always been a bit obsessive on the subject of Death Eaters.  He doesn't even like me to be around their children."

"Can't blame him there, either.  However, I do think he was a bit harsh giving you two detentions in the same day over breaking Malfoy's nose."  Hermione got up from her kneeling position on the floor and pulled up a chair next to Antigone's.  "It'll probably improve his looks, anyway.  You know, give him that dashing, dangerous air."

Antigone shook her head.  "Nope, he'll still look like a rat."  Both girls broke out into giggles at this, the fearful mood quickly dissolving.  Hermione caught her breath after a moment and grinned.

"Just out of curiosity, why did you turn his green boxers into red Speedos?"

"Oh, Uncle Harry put me up to it."  Antigone bit her lip as if she thought she might have said more than she should have.  

"You have an Uncle named Harry?"  Hermione tried to picture a Harry Snape, but it just wouldn't form in her mind.

"More of a close friend of my mother's than an actual uncle.  There's no blood relation."  She had the look again, like she was holding onto something secret, something other than being Snape's daughter.  "How did you find out about it?  My father being an ex-Death Eater, I mean."

"Oh, it was during our fourth year.  That's when Voldemort came back and killed Cedric Diggory.  I was in the infirmary while Professor Dumbledore and Mr. Fudge were interrogating Harry about what happened.  Fudge, being the complete idiot that he is, refused to believe it.  Professor Snape pulled back the sleeve of his robe and shoved the arm right under his nose, showing him the Dark Mark and telling him how it had been burning black earlier, when Voldemort was calling his Death Eaters to him."

The other girl rolled her eyes.  "Cornelius Fudge wouldn't know a Death Eater if it bit him on his oversized arse.  He's too afraid of offending the old, Pure Blood families, as if that makes them any better.  Gryffindor himself was only a half blood, and look at you!  You're top of everything and you're parents are both Muggles."  

"I know.  It scares me sometimes.  I worry that they might become targets.  I know I'm just a student, but I'm also one of Harry's best friends, and terror doesn't need much of a reason to strike out at someone."  Hermione stopped, chewing on her lip as her eyes focused on the floor.  After a moment, she looked up to find Antigone watching her, eyes concerned and chewing on her own lip, which reminded Hermione to stop.  The other girl stopped as well, just like a mirror image.  "You're lucky you didn't get the nose."

"Isn't that the truth!  Could you imagine me with the Snape Family Schnoze?"  She jumped up and grabbed a spare piece of parchment lying on the teacher's desk upfront, rolled it up into a tube and held it over her nose.  Hermione giggled.

"You've forgotten something.  It needs to be broken a couple of times."

"Oh, that's right."  She took the rolled parchment and crumpled it a bit so that it was crooked.  Placing it up to her face again and struck a pose.  "How's this?"

"Perfect!"  Both girls erupted into gales of laughter, the paper nose quickly forgotten as they were forced to hold their sides to try and alleviate their discomfort.  "Are you… feeling better?" Hermione managed to ask between gasps.

"Much." Antigone had fallen down to sit on the dusty floor, black eyes sparkling.  "I really needed that.  I guess I take things too seriously at times."  She grinned lopsidedly.  "I wonder where I picked that trait up."

"Couldn't even begin to imagine.  It's really strange though, you being Professor Snape's daughter.  He must have had a really hard life to have turned out the way he has.  I mean, he's always so irritable and difficult, but you're nice and great to be around.  It's really too bad that you're in Slytherin, you're nothing like them."

"Of course not!  I'm actually human."  She grinned impishly.  "Well, how much longer do you suppose we can hide out here?"

"Until dinner if need be.  Few students would bother coming into a classroom when there are no classes."  Hermione pulled her feet up and crossed them atop the seat in front of her.  "Speaking of classes, did you finish your essay on wizard banking for History of Magic?"

"Oh, I finished that days ago.  Amazing how our gold rests in the whims of short people with foul tempers, isn't it?  The whole wizarding world goes into a panic whenever there's a goblin uprising and falls into catatonia if there's a full blown rebellion.  You'd think someone would have figured out that we need another bank by now."

"Wouldn't you?"  Hermione straightened up and started ticking off dates on her fingers.   "In 1087 the goblins sealed up all of the vaults until they were allowed to raise the exchange rates between wizarding gold and Muggle money.  In 1325 they froze all the accounts because they wanted to be allowed to have houses in wizarding neighborhoods…"

"Well, who could blame them?  Have you seen a goblin community?  They're usually in caves or bogs or something like that.  I'd rather have a nice, warm house.  Oh, and then there's the minor uprising in 1777 when they claimed they were deciding to support their colonial branch and felt that Britain should grant the colonists their freedom.  A thinly veiled excuse if I've ever heard one, just like the one in 2015 when…"

"2015?"  Hermione frowned as Antigone faltered, her eyes going wide.

"I mean 1015, when…"

"That's it!"  Hermione took her feet off the chair in front of her and leaned forward, hands on her knees.  "I've been wondering what it could be, it was obvious you were hiding something.  You're from the _future, aren't you?  That's how you know the school so well, how you know the teachers so well, you never went to Belle Noir!  You went to Hogwarts!"  The expression on Antigone's face was almost identical to the one she had worn on the Quidditch pitch when she let her tongue get away from her, telling Hermione that she was right.  "That's why no one has ever heard of Snape having a daughter, because he hasn't had you yet, has he?"_

"Uhm… no.  Hermione, you have to keep quiet about this.  You can't tell a soul."

"Oh, don't worry, I won't.  I had a time turner in my third year so I know about all the laws regarding time travel.  I won't whisper a word of it to anyone.  Only… how did you come here?  How far did you come back?"

"Well, how far is about twenty-five years.  How I did it; I had a time turner as well."

"But those only go back a few hours, not over two decades."  She looked down at Antigone, who was still seated on the dusty floor looking up at her.

"There was… an attack.  I told you that my dad gets nervous about me being around Death Eaters or their children, right?"  Hermione nodded.  "Well, that's because he's made a lot of enemies among them.  One of them tried to hurt him, by attacking me.  He was going to kill me, but his curse struck my time turner instead.  I remember it breaking, then the Death Eater being gone and a younger version of my father standing off to the side.  Everything went black, and I woke up in the hospital wing."

Hermione stared, her mouth open.  She shook herself, blinking.  "I bet that surprised Professor Snape, you popping out of nowhere."  She frowned then, chewing on her bottom lip.  "Twenty-Five years, you can't just wait that out.  You'll be forty before you get back to that point.  Shouldn't we be trying to find a way to get you back to your own time?"

"Albus is working on that.  Oh, sorry, Professor Dumbledore.  It's rather difficult to remember to call the professors by their proper titles when you've grown up all your life either addressing them by their given names or by other names.  I've always called him Albus, ever since I was old enough to remember his name and he would sit me on his knee, feeding me lemon drops.  Professor McGonagall has always insisted I call her 'Aunt Minerva' even though there's no relation between us.  I was born in the castle and just about every teacher in my time has had some hand in my raising."

Hermione grinned.  "No wonder you're so clever.  You probably had half the subjects down by heart before you were old enough to be sorted."

"I knew a bit more than the other students, certainly, but I wasn't going to go to Hogwarts if I could have managed it."

"Why not?  It's one of the best schools there is!"

"Yes, but I was the 'Hogwarts Baby'," Antigone pointed out, making quotation marks in the air with her hands, "I had always been here.  What's worse, my father was the Potions Master and my mother was the Arithmancy teacher after Professor Vector left to teach at a university.  I mean, really, think about it.  Could you think of anything worse than going to a boarding school where both of your parents teach?  All the other students get to leave their parents at home when they come to Hogwarts, I would never be able to escape mine.  I wanted to go to Belle Noir because it was so far away from here that I would just be another student.  The only reason I stayed was because Albus made my parents agree that I would get to sleep in the dorms with my housemates and that any disciplinary actions taken by the teachers would respected with no additional groundings or punishments from them."

"Hmmm… when you put it that way I can see why you would rather go somewhere else.  I can see Professor Snape grounding you from weekend visits on top of Professor Sprout making you repot an entire greenhouse."

"Without even blinking."

Hermione gave her friend a sympathetic smile.  "So Professor Dumbledore is working on a way to send you home.  I have to admit, I'll miss you.  I've never had a girlfriend before, not a real one.  Lavender and Pavarti are only interested in boys and clothes, and none of my friends back home understand me."  She grinned again and rested her elbows on her knees.  "So… Professor Snape is going to get married and have a child."

"Yep, happily ever after, just like in the story books."

"Well?  Who is she?  Is it someone he knows already?"  Antigone began to look nervous.  She started chewing on her bottom lip and seemed reluctant to meet Hermione's eyes.  "Oh, come on, I wouldn't tell."

"I never thought you'd be one for gossip."

"It's not really gossip; it's more like a secret.  I can keep a secret, you can tell me.  You said she's the Arithmancy teacher, so she must be really clever.  Of course she would have to be, since he's not the type to tolerate a stupid woman.  Is she pretty?"

"I… I think she's beautiful."

"Well of course you do, you're her daughter!  Would everyone else think she is?"

Antigone faltered, and then gave a firm nod.  "Yes, she is considered very attractive by most people."

"Does he already know her?"

"Y…yes, he already knows her."

"Does he already love her?"

"No, I can definitely say that at this moment in time he has no romantic feelings towards her whatsoever."  

"Does she love him?"

"Absolutely not."  

"All right, so they do know one another but aren't attracted to one another.  You're about my age, so they have to get together within the next ten years or so.  Is she a teacher now?"

"Uhm… no, she's not a teacher yet."  She seemed hesitant again, nervous.  Not a teacher yet, so what was this mysterious person doing?

"She's a student!"  The shocked look on Antigone's face let her know that she was right.  "She is!  Is she here?"

"I'm starving.  Is it time for dinner yet?"  Antigone scrambled to her feet and went over to the door pressing her ear against it.  

Hermione, however, was not going to let go of this one.  Antigone was being nervous and evasive, so it was safe to assume that there was a reason.  Her mother must be at Hogwarts at this time, a student.  That had to be exceedingly strange for the girl, seeing your mother when she was just a girl herself.  Going to classes with her and seeing her at the house tables in the Great Hall.  How do you cope with someone like that?  How do you behave?

She studied her friend as the other girl listened at the door.  She had Snape's height and black eyes, but her hair was brown and wasn't greasy.  She had a normal sized nose as well.  She said she grew up in the castle and that her mother had a friend named Harry whom she called 'uncle.'  _Uncle Harry?  A funny icy feeling settled in the pit of Hermione's stomach.  Antigone was quite good on a broom and appeared to be an excellent Seeker.  __Uncle Harry?  Her mother was good at Arithmancy, good enough to eventually become a teacher.  __And her name, Antigone.  Snape and his wife didn't have any feelings towards one another now, because the girl was a student.  __I always liked Antigone.  She had that habit of chewing on her bottom lip whenever she was nervous or concentrating.  __Her mother is a student here, someone Snape knows.  Her nose was small and well balanced, just like her own.  __I've always liked the name Antigone._

The icy feeling had spread to her heart, constricting it painfully.  Hermione stared at Antigone who had opened the door a little ways so she could look outside into the corridor.  Taking a breath, she called up her most brassy, bossy sounding voice.  "Antigone Marie!"

She thought her heart stopped beating when the taller girl's spine went ramrod straight just before she slammed the door shut and whirled around.  "Mum, I can explain!"

A strangled yelp escaped Hermione's throat as she fell from her chair.  "No, really!  I can!"  Antigone ran over and grabbed hold of Hermione, helping her back into her seat.  The smaller girl was breathing heavily as though she were hyperventilating, so she urged her to place her head between her knees.  "It's not that bad, really.  I mean, he's nothing like he is now.  Sure he still terrorizes the students, but to you and me he's actually nice, almost sweet."  There was a whimpering sound from underneath a bush mound of hair.  "Oh, don't be like that.  He practically worships the ground you walk on."

"I'm waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

Hermione lifted her head and peered out at Antigone through her hair.  "For the explanation."

"Well I don't have one right _now, I need time to think of something first."  Hermione gave a funny sounding, high pitched squeak, her forehead landing back on her knees with an audible *thump*.  Of course, He __would pick that exact moment to open the classroom door.  _

"Are the two of you at least going to remember to come down to dinner?"

Antigone's head shot up and over at the door where her father now stood.  He must have searched the entire castle for them.  On the better side of things, he did seem far less angry.  The length of time out of his sight must have given him time to calm down.  His black eyes took in the dust on her Quidditch robes, the tear streaks on her face, and then traveled over to where Hermione still sat bent over double, her entire body shaking.  A frown creased his brow.  "What is the matter with Miss Granger?"

Sure, she could have lied.  Had it been Minerva or Flitwick, she would have and just put up with the guilt.  She wouldn't have bothered lying to Albus since he knew everything already.  This, however, was her father.  Experience had taught her that falsehoods were of little use around him, since he could smell a half-truth from five miles away.  So, instead of lying, she took a deep breath. 

"Dad, she figured it all out on her own, I _swear!"_

A look of incomprehension crossed her father's face, quickly replaced by shock.  Finally, the same look he had given her earlier that day settled into his features.  Wordlessly, he took hold of the door knob and backed out of the room, shutting the door behind him firmly.  Antigone heard the lock click and then her father's footsteps moving away.  He could walk without a sound if it suited him and she knew she could only hear him because he wanted her to hear him.  She sighed and leaned over to rest her head against her mother's, hugging herself tightly.

"He'sgonnakillme. He'sgonnakillme. He'sgonnakillme."


	9. Chapter Nine

_Square Peg, Round Hole_

Severus hardly touched his dinner that evening, in spite of the fact that he enjoyed roast beef.  Not even the desert could tempt him, though he was fond of lemon mousse.  He did touch his goblet, but wished it was filled with wine, or better yet, brandy.  He thought that he was going to make it out of the Great Hall in one piece until Albus stopped him when the meal was over. 

"I was wondering, Severus, where Antigone is this evening?  After that spirited match, I would have thought she'd be eager for supper."

It was irritating, having Albus make an inquiry of you when anyone who knew him well enough was perfectly aware that there was nothing he didn't know.  With a disgusted snort, Severus confessed to having locked his daughter and Miss Granger inside an empty classroom earlier that afternoon and leaving them there.  It was just his luck that Minerva overheard him.  She gasped and then prepared to give him a scolding the likes of which he hadn't received since he had been a student.  Albus stopped her, however, and suggested that they all three go to his office.  They did not go and let the girls out first.

It was worse than any time he had been required to be in the Headmaster's office as a boy.  For the first time in nearly two decades he found himself feeling as he had one of the numerous times he had gotten into a row with Black or Potter or Lupin.  With Minerva standing close, by he was required to tell everything, including how he had deduced the identity of Antigone's future mother.  Upon hearing that he would one day be bedding her favorite student on a regular basis, the Transfiguration teacher began to stutter and stammer in disbelief.  Albus, damn his omniscient soul, simply leaned back in his chair and listened, eyes twinkling.  After a time, he requested that both Severus and Minerva remain in his office and to refrain from killing one another until he returned.  

They waited, not speaking to one another.  He kept his features blank and expressionless; ignoring the suspicious glances she kept throwing his way.  A house elf appeared with a covered silver tray, no doubt containing food for the girls.  They had been comforting one another through lunch and locked up during dinner, so they were likely to be starving by now.  A while later the door opened, allowing the girls to enter with Albus close behind.  "Ah, I see your dinner is here.  Take the chairs next to my desk and tuck in."  Severus noted that his daughter was the first to reach the tray, taking the lid off while she was sitting down.  It wasn't the first time he had noted she seemed to eat a great deal for someone so lean in build.  Miss Granger joined her, apparently refusing to look his way.  To his further amusement, Minerva took that moment to decide to sit down as well, selecting a seat that would place her between him and the Granger girl.

"Now, we were discussing the more recent developments regarding Miss Snape's stay here.  Miss Granger, I'm sure this is all coming as quite a shock to you."  Albus grinned at the girl, who quickly swallowed a bit of beef, dabbing her mouth with a linen napkin before daring to speak.

"Yes, Professor.  I'm still not quite sure how it all is supposed to come about, but it's difficult to ignore the truth when it sits next to you in Potions every day."

"Hey, I'm not an 'it'."  Tigga pouted, but quickly let go of her ire for another slice of beef.  She liked hers with mushroom gravy, something she must get from her mother.  Sure enough, Hermione poured a bit onto her own plate while he was watching them.

"I am certain that I don't need to tell you both how important it is that this goes no further.  Not only would revealing the future relationship between the two of you be a violation of some rather serious laws, but it could endanger both the lives of Miss Granger and of Professor Snape."  Both girls nodded in agreement and the Headmaster leaned back in his chair again.  Severus saw his beard twitch as he smiled and the twinkle in his eyes grew brighter, a clear indication that he wasn't going to like what was about to be said.  "Now, since there is a definite connection between the three of you, and seeing how Professor Snape is the only adult among the three at this time, I feel secure in trusting the care and guidance of you both to him."

Hermione choked on a bit of beef, Antigone merely kept eating.  Severus was about to protest but Minerva beat him to it.  "Really, Albus, I see no reason to go that far.  Miss Granger is a Gryffindor and Miss Snape was originally sorted into Gryffindor before she was thrust back in time.  I am more than capable of keeping an eye on them both."

"I quite agree, Headmaster."  All eyes suddenly swerved towards him, but he refused to acknowledge this new interest.  "Also, they are both girls.  Surely another woman would be better suited to this task."

"Feeling daunted by the task, Severus?"  Albus reached for a bowl of lemon drops on his desk.  "Under normal circumstances I would agree, but this situation calls for subtlety and subterfuge, things that nether Miss Granger nor Miss Snape is very good at."  Both girls looked up with offended expressions on their faces.  "You are the best man for the job."

"Might I point out, Headmaster, that thanks to my daughter's errant tongue, the entire school already knows her relationship to me?"

"True, they do. However, they do not know about her relationship to Miss Granger or of Miss Granger's future association with you.  This is what we must keep secret."  He popped a lemon drop into his mouth, still smiling.  Severus wondered, not for the first time, if the aged wizard actually enjoyed tormenting him.

"Am I to house them both in my quarters now?" he inquired dryly.

"Ab-so-lutely not!"  Minerva glared at him from behind her spectacles and took on a posture that was strongly reminiscent of a fully grown dragon.

"Oh, that's good."  Honestly, if the old coot was going to put him through this torment, he could at least get a little amusement out of it by tweaking Minerva's nose.  "I haven't space for another bedroom and Miss Granger looks like the kind of girl who would insist on putting her cold feet on me."

"Father!"  Antigone dropped her fork and grabbed her mother by the shoulders to keep her from fainting face first into her plate.  Minerva gasped and glared at him with unspoken promises of gelding if not out right disembowelment.  Albus continued to suck on his lemon drop, watching all unfold before him.

~***~

It was hours later when Hermione finally got into her own bed.  She had returned to the common room after being given a stern talking to by Professor Snape, warning her not to tell anyone about what she had learned.  Then she had selfishly allowed Professor McGonagall to comfort and coo over her, telling her that everything was going to be all right.  Antigone had wanted to stay with her a little longer, but her father had ordered her to return to their quarters with him.  When she finally got back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry and Ron cornered her and demanded to know all she knew about Antigone being Snape's daughter.  They had used the map to see where the girls had gone and it had never occurred to them to come after them once they knew where they were.  Their questions couldn't be answered even half-truthfully, since the other Gryffindors were eager to know as well.  She made some excuses about supposedly not knowing and escaped as quickly as possible.

Now, clad in her night dress, she crawled between the sheets of her bed and attempted to sleep.  The events of the day were whirling in her mind like a cyclone.  She was going to come back one day to teach.  She was going to marry Snape.  _Snape!  That greasy hair, hooked nosed, Gryffindor-hating **git!  The thought of it made her shudder, and not in any way that could have been considered good.  What's more, not only does she marry him, she actually sleeps with him!  At least once, or else there wouldn't be an Antigone.  **_

_Antigone Marie Snape.  It was odd, seeing a girl your age, someone you finally can call a friend, then learning that you're going to give birth to her in about ten years.  Now that she was aware of the connection she was able to see the similarities between her and the Grangers.  The nose and hair color were the most obvious points.  A closer inspection would reveal that the eyes were shaped like Hermione's, though they were the same color as Snape's.  She also had picked up Hermione's own bad habit of chewing her bottom lip to pieces when she was nervous.  She was also clever and funny.  Doubtless she was top of her class in her own time, I she supposed she would have Harry to thank for the Quidditch obsession.  Of course, if her daughter thought she would remain on the team if her grades started to drop, she had another think coming!_

Her daughter.  Hermione bit down on her bottom lip, worrying it with her teeth.  She was going to have a daughter.  At least she would have a bit of experience with what to teach her, being a girl herself.  She couldn't imagine trying to raise a son.  What did she know about boys except that few of them ever thought beyond sex or Quidditch?  As she pondered how effective of a parent she would be, it never occurred to her that it took two to make a baby and that Antigone's father was destined to be very much a part of her life.  She eventually fell asleep and dreamt of watching a raven haired toddler walk clumsily across a bedroom floor into her outstretched arms.  The woman she was in her dreams lifted the tiny Antigone up into the air, then showered plump cheeks with kisses.

~***~

"Explain yourself."

"I didn't mean for it to happen.  I just slipped out."  Antigone stood before her father, face lowered and hands clasped behind her back.  She was having the Devil's own time trying to stand still and her feet kept shifting about.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?  Malfoy has no doubt already sent an owl to his father reporting today's events.  Just how in the Hell am I supposed to explain you?"  Snape's black eyes flashed at his daughter.  "AND STOP FIDGETING!"  Tigga immediately became as still as a statue.  He took a deep, calming breath, and then walked away from her towards the hearth.  "I'll think of something.  Voldemort will most likely call me soon; he'll want to question me about you.  Doubtless he'll see this as a sign of betrayal.  A _loyal Death Eater should be willing to divulge all offspring as potential followers."_

"I'm sorry, Father."

"Not another word!  You will be _silent!"  Though he couldn't see her with his back turned, he figured she must have flinched at that one.  A stab of guilt shot through him.  He told himself to ignore it, to stand firm.  She was the one who had acted foolishly.  He had every right to be angry._

But, this was not a mere student for him to hold sway over.  This was his daughter, though she was not yet born.  He truly wasn't enjoying this new part of himself, the paternal part that forced him to act… human.  With a sigh, he turned back around to see that his daughter was still standing perfectly motionless.  "I'm sorry; I shouldn't place all the blame upon you.  I keep forgetting you have a Gryffindor's temper and none of the Slytherin tact."  It wasn't a perfect apology, but apologies were not something he was used to.

She still remained silent and motionless, still stared at the floor.  The carpeting allowed him to move more silently than ever as he crossed the room to stand before her.  He gripped her chin in one hand and lifted her face upwards.  "Never appeared cowed or subservient.  You are a Snape, remember that."

"Yes, Father."  At least she wasn't crying.  He didn't think he could bear tears.

"Now we have an added problem.  Whereas you can certainly feel comfortable with the idea that I am your father and Miss Granger is your mother, and I have come to accept both of these facts, Miss Granger is still just a girl.  What's more, I am not her favorite teacher."

"Oh, but you're wrong!"  Tigga blinked, seemingly surprised that he would say this.  "She always told me that she respected you more than any of the others except for Aunt Minerva."

"Respect is one thing.  Affection is another.  From her reaction to today's revelation, I doubt she is looking forward to her wedding day.  Oh, stop that!"  She had begun to chew on her bottom lip again, and the habit was starting to become quite annoying.

"Sorry, it's just that… can you blame her?  Really, Father, you're rather intimidating.  I've gotten used to the way you are now, but believe me, Mum's good for you."

Snape arched an ebony brow.  "Well, the contrite little urchin didn't last very long."  She had the good grace to blush, and she almost looked down at the floor again but seemed to remember that she wasn't supposed to.  "I suppose it was too much to hope that you would remain so."  Was that a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth?  Honestly! The girl was impossible!  First thing he was going to do the day after his marriage to Hermione was to demand that Harry Potter was removed from her life, because he was doubtless the reason for his child's wild and irreverent tendencies.  As far as he was concerned, total isolation from the Famous Harry Potter would be the best thing for the girl.

"I'll worry about what is to be done about your blunders today.  Got to bed."  And with that, she was dismissed.  He turned away from her and shut himself behind his bedchamber door.  She stared at it for a long moment, and then sighed before turning towards her own bedchamber.

Minerva had really done it up well.  Perhaps just to tweak her father's nose, she had adorned it in Gryffindor colors with a bedspread emblazoned with the Gryffindor coat of arms.  The mattress was thick and soft, and there was a mountain of pillows upon which she could rest her head.  She changed out of her Quidditch robes, tossing them into a hamper for a house elf to claim later before making her way into the small bathroom.  It only had a shower, toilet and sink, but it was comfortable enough to wash away the grime from the game before pulling on her nightdress and slipping into bed.  

So Mum knew now.  The question was; how was she going to react?  Would she still want to talk to her?  Would she still even like her?  Tigga wasn't foolish, she knew she shouldn't expect hugs and kisses upon their next meeting, but she did hop that Hermione would still want to at least be her friend.  She knew this was going to be difficult for her.

_It would help if I had a way to show her what the future is going to be like.  What Dad's going to be like.  Right now he's horrible enough, but she had to fall in love with him for some reason, didn't she?  At this point in time, she couldn't imagine two people more poorly suited for one another.  Placing her mother and father together as a couple was like trying to force a square peg into a round hole. Too bad she couldn't magically age her mother about eight years, give her all the wisdom and experience she gained in that time, and then re-introduce her to her father.  He had once told Tigga that he had known he was going to marry her mother the very day she returned to Hogwarts as a teacher._

Suddenly she sat up in bed and smacked herself on the forehead.  "Of _course he did, you idiot!  You came back in time and blabbed the entire thing!"  With a sigh she fell back onto her pillows.  So many things started clicking into place.  The way the other teachers always seemed to know just what she was capable of.  The expectant twinkle in the Headmaster's eye when he pinned her prefect badge onto her jumper.  The way her father had grudgingly asked Uncle Harry to teach her how to play Quidditch, muttering something about how it would be 'useful at one time', even after the Underwear Incident.  The entire faculty had known she would end up here, which was why they didn't even bat an eye when her mother 'reminded' them that she would need a Time Turner this year.  _

_If I ever get back home, I'm going to kill each and every one of them.  There was little heat in her silent threat.  Still, a little warning would have been nice.  _


	10. Chapter Ten

_The Summons_

The next day of classes, Antigone hesitated in her room.  It seemed that her vaunted Gryffindor courage had deserted her as she stood there in her Slytherin robes and tie.  Her satchel slung over her shoulder and she twirled a lock of ginger hair around her finger as she looked at the door with no small amount of apprehension.

The door to her room swung open with such force that she stepped back in shock, hands snapping to her sides and eyes wide as she stared at her father's glower.  "Well?"

"Uhm… I was coming."  He arched a brow.  "Really!  I was!  I… I was just thinking about the other day."

"I wonder why."

She arched her own brow and put her hands on her hips.  "No need to be so snarky about it.  I'm well aware that I screwed up.  I was just wondering if…"  She tapered off, no longer so self-assured.

"If?"

She let out a sigh.  "Well, if you must know, I was wondering if Mum was still going to talk to me or if she's going to avoid me like I have the plague."

"A rather overused phrase, don't you think?"  He stepped into her room, though since he only stood five inches taller than she did, he wasn't as intimidating as he would have liked.  "Since you no doubt have a close relationship to your mother in the future, you should be aware that she is a Gryffindor to the very core of her being.  Even something as extraordinary as her daughter hurtling through from the future is unlikely to faze her to the point that she would turn her back on her completely."

She offered up a weak smile.  "So says the man who spent three days convincing her to speak to Ronald Weasley again after he made such an ass of himself during your tenth anniversary party."

He blinked, obviously surprised.  "I actually _encouraged her to speak to that imbecile?"  She nodded.  "I must become senile in my old age.  Never mind.  Neither a Gryffindor nor a Slytherin would be cowering in fear when faced with a challenged such as this.  Stop acting like a Hufflepuff and get out there."  He reached out and grasped one of her slender shoulders with his hand before firmly pushing her from the room.  Apparently staying in bed and feigning illness was not going to be an option._

She didn't have Potions that day, but she did have Care of Magical Creatures.  It would be her rotten timing that she would be forced to face her mother so soon during her worst class.  Hagrid had managed to get the game keeper of an oriental school of magic to send him a Kir-In, a curious creature with the golden horn and hooves of a unicorn and a body that seemed to be part deer and part small dragon.  They were peaceful and treasured all life to the point that they sort of hovered instead of walked so that they didn't so much as bruise a blade of grass.  Generally friendly to most, Antigone had been disappointed yet again when it accepted her timid approaches with cool disdain.  Apparently it wasn't dragon enough to overlook the fact that she was a Snape.

She squared her shoulders and went up the stone stairs that led out of the dungeons and into the entrance hall.  The Gryffindors were coming down for the lesson.  Antigone stopped at the door just as Hermione did.  The smaller girl looked up at her, chewing on her bottom lip just as Antigone was doing on her own, and said, "Good morning."

"Good morning."

They exited the double doors, walking side by side.

"So… you want to stand by me while we try to talk to the Kir-In?"

"If you don't mind.  I'd rather not run the risk of being stabbed with that horn or something."

~***~

"So, you _do_ have a claim to the name, do you?"  Malfoy had apparently decided to sit down across from Antigone during lunch.  Crabbe and Goyle sat down on either side of her.  Just peachy.

"It would appear so."  She refilled her goblet with pumpkin juice and took a long sip.

"So the Potions Master has a bastard.  How very interesting.  I wonder; did he fail to acknowledge you all this time because you're mother was too much of a whore to marry him or did he bed a Muggle and was just too embarrassed to say anything about it?"  The goons laughed like the good little toadies they were.

_Don't let him get to you.  Dad'll skin you alive if you're caught fighting again.  _"Fascinating."  She gave Malfoy a piercing look.  The runty blond frowned back at her.

"What?"

"I wouldn't have thought it could be possible, but you're voice is even more nasally now than it was before I broke your nose."  How she managed to keep her face straight when she was looking at his outraged expression, she would never know.  Malfoy sputtered, and then glared.

"You'd best watch your step.  Daddy can't protect you forever."  His voice was softer, no doubt he thought it menacing.  Crabbe and Goyle each took one of her arms and began to squeeze.  It was rather uncomfortable, but she forced herself not to flinch.

"I'd call off your lap dogs if I were you, Malfoy.  Do you think that threatening the Potions Master's daughter would get you nothing more than a detention or two?  Ask yourself what your father would do if it were you being intimidated."  

Malfoy spun around.  Antigone, Crabbe and Goyle looked up.  Uncle Harry was standing about three feet away, apparently on his way to the Gryffindor table.  Ron stood beside him, fists balled up tightly.  Both boys were glaring down at him with thinly veiled menace in their eyes.  Malfoy, however, seemed to take their words to heart, because he nodded to Crabbe and Goyle who quickly let go of her.  Harry nodded, seemingly satisfied with this.  He turned his bright green eyes on the girl and smiled.  "How about sitting with us?  We could use the change."  They waited until she had gathered her plate and goblet, and then walked over to the Gryffindor table with her.

Ron was the first to speak as they sat down with the rest of the boys, Hermione no where in sight.  "That git just keeps getting dumber every year.  Mind you, if you were as hard to get along with as your father, we would've let him dig his own grave."

Antigone grinned.  "Thanks for stepping in.  I don't know what Dad would do if I broke his nose again."

"Probably have you scrub all the toilets in the castle with your toothbrush."  Harry grinned as he offered Antigone a basket of hot rolls.  She took one and added liberal amounts of butter.  "Careful.  You gain too much weight and I'll flatten you at the rematch."

"We're getting the rematch?"

"Yeah.  They couldn't figure out which student did it, but Madam Hooch tested my broomstick and found it had definitely been jinxed.  We'll get another shot at one another after all the normal games are played.  This last score gets thrown out completely."

Tigga grinned.  "Perfect.  A chance to mop the pitch up with you fair and square."

"Watch it, Harry.  She sounds serious, and she's bigger than you."  Seamus Finnegan grinned at them from across the table as Ron snorted into his pumpkin juice.  Harry only smiled back playfully.

"On that snail of a broom Malfoy has?  Not likely, Snape.  Not unless you can talk Dear Old Dad into getting you a new one."

She smiled sweetly.  "Stranger things have happened."  

They finished lunch and just made it to Charms.  Hermione waved her over, frowning sternly in an expression that reminded her of lectures she had half-way earned in her youth.  "Where have you been?"

"Eating."  She slid into the chair next to her mother, who was rolling her eyes.

"Honestly, don't you ever think of anything besides food?"

"Sure I do, I think about Quidditch."

Hermione gave a snort.  "If you stopped eating so much maybe you wouldn't get any taller."  It was nonsense, of course, but Antigone didn't have time to respond as Professor Flitwick began going over the lesson.  He wanted them to review levitation charms, only they weren't using feathers this time.  Being more advanced students, he had brought old, heavy canon balls to the classroom, a more worthy challenge.  

Tigga was a little slower than Hermione, it took her a whole twenty seconds longer to get back into the swing of it, but soon both girls were levitating their canon balls.  While the rest of the class tried to boost their own charm, the girls entertained themselves by making their objects dance together in a sort of canon ball ballet.  Professor Flitwick chuckled at them merrily, advised them not to become overconfident, and moved off to help some of the other students.  Once he was out of earshot and everyone else was occupied, Hermione spoke again in a soft whisper.

"You're too tall."  She sounded rather disgruntled about it, actually.

"Well, it wasn't my idea."

"No, it's all _his_ fault.  I'll have to remember that.  Surely there is something I can do while I'm pregnant, or when you're small.  There must be something that could keep you at a sensible height."

It was Tigga's turn to snort now.  "Right, you grow up to be all powerful.  Even Albus trembles in fear at your passing."

"Don't be impertinent."  Tigga glanced over and saw that the corner of Hermione's mouth was twitching as though she were trying hard not to laugh.  Never being one to pass up a good laugh, Antigone leaned down to whisper into Hermione's ear where she couldn't be overheard.

"Well, Mummy Dear, while you're at it, do you think you could be a little more generous with the curves?  My broomstick has a better body than I do."

Hermione choked and her cannon ball froze, quivered for a moment, and then exploded into a fine powder as a fit of giggles washed over her.  Everyone stopped what they were doing to watch Hermione Granger double over in uncontrollable laughter.  Antigone was standing up straight again, imaging that her cannon ball had arms and legs and was doing the watusi, her face the perfect picture of innocence.

~***~

The day was finally over, and it hadn't been nearly as painful as she had feared.  Several of the Slytherins had tried to grill her on her relationship with her father, but she had fobbed them off.  A few of the braver students from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff ventured close enough to ask her if it was actually true, and she merely smiled and assured them that she wasn't going to be poisoning them anytime soon.  The Gryffindors appeared to have held a meeting and had decided that Antigone must take after her mother, because she certainly didn't act like Snape.

_If they only knew._

Unshouldering her satchel, she dropped it into a chair by the hearth and rolled her shoulders.  "Dad, I survived!"  She tilted her head to one side and waited for some answering sound.  Nothing came.  Frowning, she tried again.  "I didn't even break Malfoy's nose when he tried to start up with me.  Of course, I broke both of his legs, so that might not be a fair trade."  Still more silence.  It was after supper, so he should be back by now, bent over a stack of essays and slashing them with scarlet ink.  "Hello!  Lord Grouch?  Royal Grumpiness?"

"Excuse me, Miss."

Tigga gave a yelp and whirled around, wand out and in her hand in a flash.  A house elf stood behind her, hands behind his back.  He didn't even flinch at the sight of the wand now leveled at his head.  Unlike traditional house elves, who were slaves and wore no proper clothing as a sign of their enslavement, Dobby wore what looked like a miniature version of a Weasley sweater, a pair of children's' shorts, mismatched socks and a tea cozy on his head.  She had heard of Dobby, of course, and new that he was a free elf who worked for wages by Dumbledore's invitation.

"Excuse me, Miss.  I is Dobby, Miss.  I is coming to deliver a message from your father, Miss."

"Oh… sorry."  She lowered her wand.  "My father left me a message?"

"Yes, Miss.  Professor Snape is saying that you is to be sure and complete your essay for his class before going to bed and that if you is to send to the kitchens for a snack that you is to be making sure that you is not leaving crumbs on the floor this time.  He is saying that he is seeing you in the morning, Miss."

"In the morning?"  Antigone frowned.  "Where has my father gone, Dobby?"

Dobby began to look frightened.  His long, bat-like ears bent down nervously.  "He… he is being called, Miss.  He is being summoned by He Who Must Not Be Named, Miss.  He… He is saying that you is not to worry, Miss."

The world was turned upside down and inside out in one brief second.  Antigone grew even paler than usual and she stumbled back a few steps as though struck by some invisible force.  "Oh… thank you… Dobby.  I… thank you."

Dobby looked at her, concern in his huge, green eyes.  "Should Dobby get someone for you, Miss?  Should Dobby get Professor Dumbledore for you, Miss?"

"No, that's not necessary.  I… I'm fine."

"Something from the kitchens, then, Miss?  Dobby can get you some nice, hot tea, Miss."

"No… no tea.  You may go, Dobby.  I… I need to be alone."  The house elf didn't look very keen on this idea, but she didn't notice his worried expression.  He vanished quietly, leaving her to think on this change of events.  Oh, she knew that it was likely to happen under the circumstances, but she had somehow managed to convince herself that it would not.  

Voldemort had been a memory by the time Antigone was old enough to truly understand what was going on.  She couldn't remember anything of the times when her father was summoned by the Dark Lord other than a faint recollection of how worried her mother was when he didn't come home at night.  It was the tension she remembered.  Then, after Voldemort fell, there were still those Death Eaters who caused trouble from time to time, but there was a respite as the more powerful and higher ranking members fell upon one another like jackals as they tried to fill the now vacant position of power that had been their master's.  By the time Antigone was in her second year, however, the lack of leadership among the Death Eaters was solved and a new power was attempting to rise.  No one was sure who it was, though her father had always suspected Lucius Malfoy.  

During the war her father's identity as a spy had been revealed, so he couldn't go back undercover.  Instead, he jointed the Aurors to help them ferret out the Death Eaters.  He gathered information using old friends in unsavory places, people who heard things so-called 'decent' wizards didn't hear because they were never in the right place to hear them.  Once locations and times were pinned down, he would go out with the Ministry wizards to round up as many of the Death Eaters as they could.  These times away from home Antigone remembered far too well, because they still happened in her time.  She remembered the long, heart wrenching nights where she would cry herself to sleep in her mother's arms, only to be awakened by her father's soft whispers when he came home in the wee hours of morning and bullied her into her own bed.  

But Voldemort had been a bad memory for so long, at least to her.  She had heard such terrifying things about him.  She had heard how evil, how uncaring he could be.  He was supposed to be one hundred times worse than Malfoy or McNair or Knott, a thousand times worse than Grindewald.  He was supposed to be vilest, most evil creature ever to live.

And he had her father.  

A curious sounding whimper escaped her, and she began to pace the living quarters of her father's suite.  Her breathing was becoming labored and ragged, though she didn't notice.  Her fingers worried the smooth wood of her wand and tears threatened to overflow from her eyes.  Everything seemed to be spinning out of control around her.  She needed something to hold onto, something to anchor to reality before she flew out into space.  Without thinking, she stopped pacing and started to run.  She ran out of the rooms her father called 'home' and through the corridors, knocking a pair of Slytherins out of her way as she passed.  Her feet carried her up the stone steps and out into the entrance hall.  She ran without thinking, without looking, up flight after flight of stairs.  Her legs slowed from the exertion and her breath came in ragged gasps, but she eventually made it all the way up to Gryffindor Tower, skidding to a stop in front of a portrait of an extremely fat lady in a pink dress.

"Miss Snape?"  The Fat Lady looked down at her in surprise.  "What are you doing in Gryffindor Tower?"

Antigone tried to regain her breath.  "I… I need… Hermione."

The Fat Lady examined her suspiciously for a long moment, and then vanished from the painting.  After a long moment, time she used to catch her breath, the portrait swung open and Seamus peered out.  "Antigone?  What are you doing up here?"

She moved forward, forcing him back through the portrait hole as she climbed in.  As they entered the Common Room all heads turned towards them.  

"What's _she_ doing here?"

"She's a _Slytherin!_"

"Oh, that's all right.  It's just Antigone."

"Antigone?"  Finally, the right voice!  The tall girl looked around and saw Hermione staring at her from the third step of the spiral staircase, a frown creasing her brow.  Tigga choked off a cry as she crossed the room and threw her arms about the other girl, burying her face in her shoulder.  Hermione's own arms came up as though out of habit and she hugged the trembling girl.  After a moment, she leg go of Antigone and started trying to pull her up the staircase.  "Come on."

Hermione took her to the dorm she shared with Lavender and Pavarti.  The other girls weren't there, leaving Hermione and Antigone alone.  They went to a double bed with books piled high upon it, sitting down.  "What happened?"

Antigone began to cry again. "He… he's been summoned.  They summoned him!"

Hermione looked as though she was about to ask "Who", but then understanding lit her features.  "Oh… oh dear."  She began to rub Antigone's back gently.  "Well… it's happened before.  He always comes back, doesn't he?"

"I know that… but… what if they hurt him?"  She looked up at her future mother, her face already becoming blotchy.  She didn't cry well.

Hermione frowned.  "Well… look at it this way.  You're here, and he has to be alive to make you, so we know he comes back."

"What if we're wrong?  What if my being here messes everything up and he gets killed because he wasn't ever supposed to be here?"  She sniffled and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her robe.  "Maybe I'll just… blink."

"Blink?"

She nodded.  "Just stop being, blink out of existence."

Hermione frowned again.  "You won't.  I won't let you."  She brushed a stray lock of hair away from Tigga's face and tucked it behind her ear.  "Would you like me to go down to your room with you?"

Antigone's eyes grew wide and she shook her head violently.  "No!  I… I can't go down there.  What… what if he doesn't come back tonight?  I couldn't bear it.  Please don't make me go back down there."  Her voice sounded very small and young.  Hermione smiled hugged her.

"All right, you won't go down there.  I'll keep you here with me."  She straightened back up and offered a weak smile.  "Now, why don't you clear off these books and I'll see if I can't scare something up for you to wear."  She got up and walked over to the door to the dorm.  When she pulled it open, five boys spilled through to the inside; Harry, Ron, Seamus, Neville and Dean.

Harry looked up and offered a weak smile.  "Uhm… Hi Hermione."

"We didn't hear a thing, Mione."  Ron wriggled out from underneath the combined weight of Neville and Dean.

"Of course you didn't.  The door is too thick, even without the silencing charm.  Still, I wanted to talk to you, Ron.  I need one of your pajama tops, the largest one you have."

Ron blinked at her.  "She's staying up here, then?  Won't that get you both in trouble?"

"I'll deal with the teachers.  They'll understand.  Just let us borrow one of your tops?"  

Ron looked towards Antigone who was still sitting on the bed.  She hadn't moved any of the books yet.  He took note of her blotchy and tear streaked face, then nodded.  "All right.  I'll go get it."  He headed towards the boys dorm, and a well placed stare from Hermione sent the other four following him.  A few moments later Ron came back with a large sleep shirt of well worn flannel.  By then, Lavender and Pavarti had returned.

"What's she doing here in our dorm?"  Lavender looked quizzically at Antigone.  

"She's my new pet," responded Hermione testily.  "Honestly, she's right here, Lavender.  Please don't speak about her as though she isn't."  Antigone had moved the books, stacking them neatly on the bedside table.  Hermione came up to her, holding out the shirt.  "Here you are.  This should be comfortable enough."

"She's sleeping here with us, then?  Ooh, it's like a pajama party!"  Pavarti grinned brightly and Lavender seemed to be warming up to the idea. 

"No, it's not.  Antigone and Professor Snape have had a disagreement, and she's staying here until he admits that he's an idiot."  Hermione bullied the taller girl out of her robes and into the shirt.  Ron was just bulky enough that it was too big for her, but it only fell a few inches below her knickers.  It made little difference, however, once she had been ordered under the covers of Hermione's bed.  

"Well, she could be here a while, then.  We'd better look into getting her a bed of her own."  Lavender no longer seemed worried and was changing into her own pajamas.  Hermione climbed into bed next to Antigone, pulling the thick blankets over both of them.  Pavarti and Lavender got into their own beds, which were right next to one another, and whispered softly between themselves until lights out.

Under the covers, Hermione squeezed Antigone's trembling hand before whispering, "He'll be all right.  I'm certain of it."


	11. Chapter Eleven

_Odd Thoughts_

"Ah… Severus."  Lucius smiled at his old friend, but the expression did not reach his eyes.  "You've been keeping secrets."

"Everyone keeps secrets, Lucius."

"True, but not ones of this magnitude… not from Our Lord.  He's not happy with you at the moment."

"Finding something about me to complain about it one of his joys in life.  Who am I to deny him the pleasure?"  He kept his voice calm even as his mind worked feverishly to weave a plausible deception.  Voldemort, curse his scaly hide, could tell when someone was lying to him.  Therefore, the trick to maintaining his secret was to give the man the truth, though perhaps not exactly cut and dried.  

"A daughter; and such a comely one at that.  It's a pity she and Draco didn't hit it off.  It would have been nice to finally be able to formally unite our families."  Malfoy matched his steps as they walked down the long hallway of the abandoned stone keep the Death Eaters were currently using as their headquarters.  Even when they wore their masks, Severus could always tell which one was Lucius Malfoy.  The sickening, too-rich scent of his hideously expensive cologne, concocted just for him by an elderly alchemist in Paris, was as clear as a fingerprint.  That, coupled with his cocky, holier-than-though strut, set him apart from other men.  Even when they had been students at school, Severus had been only just able to stomach the man.

"Well intentioned though you may be, Lucius, Antigone is entirely wrong for your son.  I fear my daughter is too headstrong to be a proper wife to a Malfoy.  They would have ended up killing one another within a year."  They paused before the newly repaired door leading to Voldemort's temporary throne room.  

"Ah, then she takes after you."  Lucius raised one black clad hand and rapped on the door three times.  "Pity."

The door swung open, hardly making a sound on ancient hinges that should no longer work.  The Dark Lord, pale and thin, looked up from a table upon which was spread a map, charmed so that the landscape was projected upwards like something out of a Muggle movie.  Red, snake-like eyes peered out from underneath a dark hood.  "Ahhh…. Severus.  So kind of you to make an appearance."

Severus bowed low.  "I came as soon as I was called, My Lord."

"Yes, so you did."  Voldemort stood up straight and came around the table towards Severus and Lucius.  His robes whispered softly as he moved, so softly that the scratching of Nagini's scales on the stone floor as she slithered beside him nearly drowned them out.  Severus waited until a cold hand touched his shoulder, a sign that he could stand up himself.  "Lucius has told me a most interesting tale, Severus.  It seems that you have been keeping secrets from us, your family."

"Only those which would either be an embarrassment or would be a cause of undeserving concern, My Lord."  He kept his voice clam, respectful.  Life had taught him to keep his emotions in check.  Lucius may look like a statue of ice, but Severus could put forth the appearance of being completely frozen, through and through.

"And under which category does the girl fall?'

"The former, My Lord."

"Really?"  Surprise was evident in the wizard's voice.  "I was under the impression that she was rather brilliant, even a challenge for that Mudblood Lucius is always complaining about.  A Quidditch player as well.  What is there to be embarrassed about?  Other than the obvious fault of being born a girl, she sounds like just the type of child a wizard would want."

_Give him the truth, but not as the truth necessarily is._  "I am sorry to say, My Lord, that she is not truly a Pure Blood."  He allowed his eyes to flicker a bit.  "Her mother was… a youthful indiscretion.  A Mudblood, clever and powerful, but still inferior."

Malfoy made a sound that was very much like a snort, tinged with disgust.  Voldemort, however, did not look at all concerned.  "I see.  Yes, I do see."  A strange kind of half smile twisted one side of a lipless mouth.  "Then again, you were always one to be attracted to intellect and brilliance, rather than beauty and bloodlines.  Tell me, was she at least your equal in intelligence?"

"At least, My Lord."

"Well then, we now know why the girl is as smart as I've heard.  But why have you never told us of her, Severus?  Why have you never made her known to us?"

"I have had little to do with the child until now.  I neither knew nor cared how she turned out, until recent events brought her back into my life.  After that, I realized how wrong I was to neglect my duties as a father.  I fear she has several… unacceptable ideas.  I thought to reeducate her before introducing her to you, My Lord."  He felt the wind as it was stirred by Voldemort's robes.

"What sort of ideas, Severus?"

The answer took little thought.  Antigone was his child, but she was also Hermione's, with a good deal of influence from both Potter and the Weasley boy.  Doubtless she had met Arthur Weasley on more than one occasion.  "That Mudbloods are as good as Purebloods.  That what we are attempting to bring about would be the downfall of the Wizarding world."  He saw the Dark Lord stop moving out of the corner of his eye.

"I see.  Disturbing ideas, Severus.  Very disturbing ideas.  You are correct in that she needs such foolish fancies erased from her mind."  He fell silent again, so silent that Severus could hear nothing but Malfoy's steady breathing and his own heartbeat.  He wondered if Voldemort believed him, if his half-truths were enough to convince him to leave the girl be for now.  The ongoing silence was ominous, until finally, "Very well, Severus, we will wait.  However, we cannot wait forever."  The robes rustled again as the Dark Lord turned to walk towards him, coming at a stop before Severus and looking him in the eye.  "Until Halloween, Severus.  You have until then to bring her around, and should you fail, she will be disposed of.  Keep in mind that, were you anyone else, I would order the child destroyed now.  However, you have never taken a wife, nor had an heir.   I would not deny you a chance to save your only offspring."

Severus bowed low.  "You are most generous, My Master."  A cold, bony hand rested atop his head, and he thought for a moment how entertaining it would be if the excess of oil there stained the bastard's fingers permanently.  

"You would be wise to remember that, My Servant.  Now, run along home to your errant child.  A daughter needs her father to shape her and keep her from developing such foolish ideas and beliefs.  You have much to make up for."  

It was a dismissal, and a welcomed one.  Severus backed out of the room, turning around to walk forwards once the door was shut.  Malfoy had made to follow him, but Voldemort had held him back.  For that, he was grateful.  He didn't feel like discussing the possibility of turning Tigga over to Draco for part of her 'reeducation'.  Instead he made his way out of the keep and apparated into Hogsmede.  There he climbed into the horseless carriage that waited behind the Three Broomsticks and let it take him back up to the school.  At last 'safe', he allowed himself to sag, boneless, into the thickly padded seat.

The trip to the school was short, and he was soon extricating himself from the carriage and making his way up the stairs.  As he entered the front door, he saw Minerva standing there, trying to look as though she was only studying one of the paintings.  The tense posture of her shoulders gave her away.  "It's all right, Minerva."  Her face turned towards him, her lips pressed together so tightly that they nearly disappeared.

"What happened?"

"I have bought us some more time.  He is willing to wait until Halloween for me to bring her before him.  We need to be sure that she is gone from here by then."

The witch nodded, some of the tension leaving her shoulders.  When she spoke, her voice was as soft as his own, although there was no one else in the entryway.  "The Headmaster feels confident that he is close to figuring out the correct incantation.  Sending someone forward in time is nothing to be taken lightly, but as we are returning her to her own time, it should be possible."  She risked what he was sure she thought was an encouraging smile.  "Not much longer, Severus, and you can reclaim your privacy."

His privacy.  He nodded in agreement, but did he truly want privacy any longer?  As he returned to the dungeons, footsteps echoing on the cold stone, he reflected on his life these past weeks.  Would he be happier once there was no longer a pair of black eyes looking at him in class, hanging on his every word?  Would he truly enjoy the absence of a steaming carafe of coffee and toast waiting on his desk every morning?  Watching her as she soared through the air at the Quidditch match against Gryffindor had been more enjoyable than any game he had viewed since his own school days.  He wasn't a fool.  He knew that the feeling that stirred within him when he read one of her essays or watched her brew a flawless potion was pride.  The pride of knowing that one day he would sire her.  Though she doubtless had flaws as all people do, she was still a part of him, as much as she was a part of Hermione Granger.

He frowned as he entered his living quarters.  The Granger girl was a puzzle to him.  It had been far easier to deal with her on the level of just another annoying Gryffindor.  It was quite something else to think of her now that he knew what part she played in his future.  He shrugged out of his robes and hung them inside his wardrobe fore turning towards a full length mirror standing beside them.  The reflection staring back at him was no Prince Charming.  The lamentable decisions he had made in his youth, and the hard life that had followed those decisions, had aged him before his time.  He could pass for an uncle, or even father, of those he attended school with more than twenty years ago.  His constant habit of frowning had given him deep furrows in his brow and flanking his mouth, and too many fights with not enough time to patch himself up afterwards and left his nose crooked beyond even magical repair.  Even his smile was all wrong.  Too many years of coffee and strong tea and not enough time spent on cleaning charms.  

What was there about him that could possibly attract a pretty, vivacious creature such as Hermione Granger?  With the exception of a shared love of learning, they had nothing in common.  If the proof of their future bond wasn't presently within the castle, warm and alive and able to drive the stoutest teacher mad with a single spell, he would refuse to believe it possible.  He had long ago given up hope that he would have something so normal, so happy as a family he could call his own.  As he stood there, glaring at his own aged image, he had to admit that Tigga was more to him than just a daughter he would one day have.  

She was a living symbol of hope.

The thought banished the scowl from his face.  He took a deep breath and ran a hand over his lank hair.  He should get a shower in before bed, strip some of the excess oil from his skin and hair, but at the moment he felt the urge to look in on his child.  He had precious little time to spend with her, and after Albus sent her back, it would be years before she was old enough to interest him.  The thought that he might find joy in the simple act of watching an infant grow to the age of fifteen never even crossed his mind as he went over to the door that separated the magically created room from the rest of his quarters.  The door opened soundlessly on magical hinges, allowing the flickering light from the lamps to flood into the tiny room and illuminate an empty bed. 

A moment's panicked gripped him.  Why wasn't she in her bed, sound asleep as she should be?  A brief vision of Deatheaters dragging his daughter away after having lured him from her side ripped through his mind before he forced himself back under control.  They would have never been able to get her out of the castle.  He worried demeanor instantly changed to annoyance as he reached underneath his shirt collar and pulled out a crystal suspended on a silken chord.  "Show me."

The crystal began to glow from within, and then spun out beams of light that began to wind and twist themselves into a map of the Hogwarts dungeons.  As though he were following a tiny, unseen figure, the scene began to move, the map reforming as it traveled down corridors and up stairwells.  As it continued to travel upwards, his feeling of annoyance intensified.  Once the map had scrolled past the floor where the library was held, he was certain of his daughter's whereabouts.  He waited only just long enough for the map to sketch out the interior of Gryffindor tower, highlighting Antigone's location, before dismissing the spell and walking towards the door.  

~***~

Hermione was never the heaviest of sleepers, one of the reasons she had always argued steadfastly against sharing bed space with her cousins during family gatherings.  It wasn't that she disliked her cousins.  It was that she disliked the fact that they had a tendency to kick in their sleep, or snore, or talk or some other annoying thing that would wake her up time and time again.  In truth, if Antigone hadn't been so upset upon arriving in Gryffindor Tower, she would have escorted her back to Snape's quarters and just held her hand until she fell asleep, maybe finding a comfy chair to await the professor's arrival before returning to her own bed.  But Antigone had been upset, terribly so, and with good reason.  Hermione just hadn't had the heart to turn her away.

Luckily, it appeared that Antigone was one of those rare people who 'slept like the dead'.  The moment she had finally succumbed to sleep, she had remained in exactly the same position, not twitching so much as a fingertip.  Her breathing was deep, but nearly soundless and blissfully free of snores.  Her legs remained exactly where they had been placed before she fell asleep, not even so much as a twitch within them.  All in all, it was rather like having a life sized teddy bear, only without the fur and possessing a normal body temperature, and acting as a sort of low grade space heater.

_I wonder if Professor Snape sleeps the same way._  The moment the thought had formed in her head, Hermione was mortified at her own mental processes.  She couldn't believe she had just been contemplating what it would be like to sleep next to her teacher!  And not just any teacher, but the dreaded Potions Master.  

_But you obviously do at some point in the future.  You're presently snuggled up to the proof._

Hermione silenced her 'inner voice' and refused to admit that she was 'snuggled up' to anyone.  True, her head was resting on Antigone's shoulder, but that was mainly because the bed wasn't truly long enough for the girl, forcing her to sort of bend at the waist to keep her feet from hanging off the edge, or crook her knees up and thereby crowding Hermione.  Since she knew that the girl was only a fifth year, she sincerely hoped that she was close to stopping in the growth department.  Antigone was already taller than most boys her age.  Any taller and Hermione feared that her daughter would find it very difficult to meet some nice boy one day.

_Listen to me!  I'm thinking like an overprotective mother!_  Although she had, on some simplistic level, accepted the fact that Antigone was her daughter, or would be, she had trouble fully wrapping her mind around it.  She supposed that the main obstacle was that she, Hermione, hadn't actually given birth yet.  She hadn't even ever participated in the act that was required in order to give birth to a child.  It was rather confusing to think of a person as being your child when you were still a virgin.  Perhaps that was why she felt more like a friend to the other girl, rather than a parent.

_Well, I certainly hope I get over that problem in the future.  She'll walk all over me, otherwise._  She had noted a rather lamentable tendency towards high spiritedness in Antigone Snape.  Since she knew _she wasn't given to such behavior, and it was highly doubtful that Snape was, she could only surmise that Harry and Ron must play a big part in her daughter's life.  _I bet they go out of their way to teach her every sneaky, underhanded trick in the book to play on her father.  She said that Harry put her up to transfiguring Snape's underwear.__

She managed not to giggle at the memory.  The thought of Snape being forced to wear skin tight, red Speedos was enough to send her into hysterics.  She could almost picture his scowling displeasure.  At least he would be able to hide them underneath his clothing.

Still, the thought of the day she would bring a child into this world, a child that was half Snape, made her wonder just what event in the future would lead her to pledging her life to someone like Severus Snape.  _I know he's not a Deatheater any longer, though I don't know what possessed the Headmaster to let him go back to spying.  He's very brave to do it, though. He would have made an excellent Gryffindor._  Not that she'd ever tell him that, of course.  And she had to admit that he had a fine mind.  She also suspected that he had an excellent library, though she did not think herself shallow enough that she would marry a man for his library.  _Well, maybe if it was a very good library._

The sound of the door to the fifth year girls' dormitory creaking open drew her attention.  She lay motionless in her bed, Antigone still unmoving by her side.  She figured it was probably Professor McGonagall making a bed check, and hoped that she wouldn't be too angry about other girl being here.  Surely, considering that the professor was well aware of the circumstances, she would be more inclined to accept the situation.  Was it her imagination or were there footsteps approaching her bed?  Although she was quite sure neither of them would get into trouble, she still found herself screwing her eyes shut as she would have done ten years ago when she wanted the grownups to believe she was actually sleeping and not reading books underneath the covers by flashlight.

There was a slight breeze against her shoulder as the bed curtain was pulled back.  She could feel the warmth of someone at her back, but whoever it was didn't speak.  She felt fabric move as the person began to reach over her and she shivered as cloth brushed her shoulder.  The arm paused.  

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione's eyes snapped open at the silky tone of Snape's voice.  She turned her head and found herself looking up into a pair of glittering, dark eyes.  They held her, freezing her like an animal caught in the beams of a car's headlights.  They looked at one another as he drew his arm back across her body, returning it to his side.  

"How long has she been here?"

Hermione swallowed.  "A few hours."  She kept her voice soft, barely above a whisper.  "She was upset about… your visit."  She didn't dare mention Voldemort's name, not when either one of the other girls might wake up and hear them speaking.  Keeping her eyes locked on Snape, she was suddenly struck by how tired he looked, how thinly stretched.  

"And she came to you."  His eyes flickered to the sleeping girl who still had yet to stir.  Frowning, he reached back over and gave her a rather hard poke in the shoulder.  Antigone's body moved, but only from the force of the jab.  Snape sighed and rolled his eyes.  Hermione frowned, puzzled.   
  


"What?"

"She sleeps like her grandfather.  The only way to wake her would be to pick her up and give her several hard shakes."  He shook his head slightly, and then met Hermione's eyes again.  "I'm too tired to wrestle her back down stairs.  I'm afraid you'll just have to put up with her for the rest of the night."

"It's all right.  I don't mind."  Hermione shifted a little so that she was laying more on her back than on her side.  "Are you all right?"

Snape looked down into her eyes, his expression going thoughtful.  She wondered if she might have upset him, not knowing if he cared to have people inquiring about his health, especially when the person doing the inquiring was a mere student.  She was about to apologize for being nosy when he surprised her by reaching up with two of his long fingers and brushing away a stray curl she hadn't even noticed encroaching on her cheek.  

"I am as well as can be expected, Miss Granger."  His hand moved up and smoothed out her hair a bit more.  Even though human hair had no sense of feeling, she swore she could feel each minute ridge of his skin.  She didn't protest, and she wasn't frightened.  She just stared up into those incredibly dark eyes.

"She was worried.  We both were.  It was dangerous for you to go."

She thought that the corners of his mouth might have turned up, but she could have also been imaging it.  "We do what we must in these times, Miss Granger."  He reached down and tugged the covers up over her shoulders, smoothing them slightly.  "Tell Antigone I will expect her to join me for breakfast in the morning."  He paused, as if considering something.  "You are welcome to join us, if you like."

"I would, like to join you that is."  It was the truth, and now she was certain that the corners of his mouth were turning upwards, if only by the smallest fraction of an inch.

"Very well.  I shall endeavor to remember and request enough food for all three of us.  You had best get some sleep, Miss Granger.  It has been a long night for all of us."  He made a movement as to bend down towards her, and then stopped himself.  As though caught doing something wrong, he straightened back up, bringing his cold, classroom demeanor back to the front.  "Good night, Hermione."  

The Potion Mater's hands drew the bed curtains closed, blocking out the moonlight and starlight that had been flooding in just a moment ago.  Hermione stared into the thick blackness, remembering the sound of her name as he had spoken it, just after he straightened back up.  She couldn't be sure, of course, but she had the strangest feeling that Professor Snape had just been about to kiss her, only to catch himself at the last moment.

She heard the door open and close again, and then willed her own eyes to close.  Perhaps it had been because he was blocking her view with his own body, or because the pale light coming through the window wasn't bright enough, that she hadn't noticed the pair of eyes that had been peering through a gap in another set of bed curtains.  Hermione Granger had no trouble falling asleep after that, her dreams shaping into something soft and intangible, mostly featuring someone with strong arms and a good deal taller than herself.  Lavender Brown, however, could not slip into slumber as easily, her mind reeling from the conversation she had just overheard.


	12. Chapter Twelve

_Plots and Harem Girls_

Hermione took a long swallow of her orange juice before setting the goblet back down upon the table.  Across from her, Antigone was biting into an orange-currant scone, still steaming from the ovens and dripping in far too much butter.  If she kept eating like this, she was going to grow as fat as she was tall.

"What happened last night?"  Hermione was about to scold her future daughter for talking with her mouth full, but Snape answered the question instead.

"As expected, Draco spouted off to his father regarding your true relationship with me; so naturally, Lucius Malfoy had to pass that information on to Voldemort."  

"Was… was he very angry, Professor?"

"Not in the least, Miss Granger."  He had just finished buttering both sides of a scone he had split in two, and to her great surprise, handed her one of the halves.  She took it, wordlessly.  "He was merely curious as to the reason I never mentioned her."

"What did you tell him?"

"That she was an embarrassment."  Snape's expression was bland as he took a sip of very strong coffee, ignoring the sound of outrage coming from his daughter.  

"Embarrassment?!  You're damn lucky to have me for a daughter and you know it!"

"Don't swear in front of your mother."  Hermione nearly choked on a bite of scone while fighting a rather unsettling urge to giggle.

"Oh, come off it.  I've heard her say much worse to you."

At that, Hermione set her scone down with her own look of outrage.  "I beg your pardon!  I have never used foul language towards Professor Snape."

Tigga rolled her eyes.  "Well of course you don't _now_.  You're still a student.  I'm talking about when you're married to him.  Believe me, even someone as crazy in love with her husband as you're going to be has the need to screech at him now and again."  She grabbed another scone from the warming basket and began to butter it, not noticing her father's contemplative look as he watched her.

"Such a cynical view to have at such a young age."  Severus looked from his daughter to his future wife.  "She must get it from your side of the family."

Hermione blinked and looked at her teacher.  Was he _joking_ with her?  What had Voldemort done to him last night?  "Are you sure you're all right, Professor?  You aren't behaving at all like yourself."

Antigone looked up from her breakfast to frown at her mother, then at her father.  "How so?  He's always like this when we're together.  That whole 'vampire bat' thing he does is just an act to keep the students in line."  She turned the scone on her plate over onto the other side so that the butter between the two halves would have the chance to melt evenly.  The uncomfortable tension that settled between her parents went unnoticed.

"Back to the meeting, Professor.  You told… him… that she's an embarrassment?"

"Correct."  Severus folded his arms atop the table and leaned a bit towards his brightest student.  "Remember this, Hermione, and remember it well for it may help you in the future.  Voldemort can detect lies.  There's so much of him that is snake-like that I'm not entirely sure if he cannot _smell_ them.  For that reason, the best way to keep him turning the wrong direction is to give him just enough of the truth that he has no cause to think that you are lying."

"Half-truths, then."  Severus smiled.  She wasn't top of her class for nothing.  "What did you tell him?"

"That her mother was a mudblood.  I described it as a 'youthful indiscretion', and for all I know that could be how it all begins between you and me, only it will be you who is the youthful one.  I also admitted that I have had little influence in her raising, which is also true, since the man I am today is not the man who raises her."

"And he fell for that?  I thought he was supposed to be some all-powerful supreme-evil type."  Tigga took a bite of the now properly buttered scone and looked to her father for an explanation. 

"He isn't 'all-powerful', though he aspires to be.  Not even Merlin was all-powerful, though he came closer than any other wizard born.  Voldemort is, however, quite evil and quite certain of himself.  Too certain, if the truth be known.  He tends to make the mistake of underestimating his opponents."

Hermione looked down at her plate, containing the half of a scone the professor had given her, a thick slice of ham and perfectly seasoned eggs, but she didn't see them.  "Evil overlord."

"What was that, Hermione?"

She looked back towards her teacher, future-husband…whatever.  "It's a sort of running joke on the internet.  That's a communication network where people from all over the world can exchange thoughts and ideas.  Someone came up with a list, something like 'Ten Things I Will Not Do When I Become an Evil Overlord', although some people have expanded it to as many as one hundred or more.  One of the rules is 'I will not underestimate my opponents'.  A few others are 'I will not send a lieutenant to kill the child prophesized to destroy me, I will do it myself', 'Killing will not be too good for my enemies' and 'I will not put my enemies in some elaborate setup meant to kill them slowly and then spill my master plan while gloating'.  

Tigga gave a snort of laughter.  "Apparently Moldy Voldie hasn't read that list."  Her father gave her a quelling look and she turned her attention back to her own breakfast.  

"Be that as it may, he is still someone to be careful around.  I did, however, manage to convince him that Antigone needs to be reeducated before I can present her to him.  He's given me until Halloween, which will buy us a few months.  Hopefully the Headmaster will have figured out how to return her to her own time by then."  The house elves who had brought their breakfast to his quarters had truly outdone themselves.  Perhaps they figured that, seeing how he never entertained, this was a special occasion and warranted extraordinary fare.

"Uhm… Papa?  Halloween is this coming Monday."

"I am well aware of that, Tigga.  However, the Headmaster always finds some reason why I cannot leave the school, usually something to do with keeping the students of two particular houses from tearing one another apart.  I haven't had to attend a Halloween Revel since I came to teach here.  After that, it will be impossible to remove you from the school before the Christmas Holidays."

"Professor, aren't you taking a bit much for granted?"

"Miss Granger," he allowed his voice to drop to his 'class room' level, "I have been at this for longer than you have been on this earth.  I believe that I would have more understanding about how this works."  He picked up a pitcher and refilled her orange juice before topping off his own.  "Until then, however, the two of you must continue on as though everything is normal.  You will continue to work together in Potions, although I must caution you, Tigga, against spending so much time with the other Gryffindors.  I don't mind if you want nothing to do with the Slytherins, and I doubt Poppy will miss the potential for broken noses and limbs, but if I am to be reeducating you into thinking like a good little pureblood, you'll need to behave as though it is working."

"Oh."  Antigone took another bite of buttery scone.  She seemed to be contemplating something as she chewed it, then she swallowed and gave her father a sweet smile.  "You know, there is something that would really help smooth things over with the other Slytherins."

Sensing a potential trap, Severus' hand hovered by the handle of his coffee cup.  "And that would be?"

"Well, I do get that rematch against the Gryffindors.  I know that I'm the better flier, but that Nimbus 2001 isn't up to par and Uncle Harry _does_ have an advantage over me, what with his faster broom and being of a smaller, lighter build."

Hermione quickly took a bite of her ham before she started to giggle.  The Potions Master was arching a brow at his daughter, clearly knowing a 'hit up' when he saw one.  "I suppose you have a suggestion as to how to correct this."

"Certainly."  She gave him a brilliant smile.  "I need a new broom."

"No."

Tigga blinked.  From the expression on her face one would think that she had never been told 'no' before in her entire, young life.  "Why not?"

"Because there's no point in spending money on something you're quite likely never to use.  The rematch is after the rest of the house games, which puts it after the Christmas Holidays.  I have every confidence that you'll be back where you belong by that time."  He took a long sip of his coffee, ignoring his child's expression of outrage.  

"That's a silly reason!"

"Why would that be?  I see no reason to waste money on a new broom simply because you feel that a Nimbus 2001 isn't up to par with a Firebolt.  You will be more than prepared against Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.  You can beat both of them without a new broom."

Tigga glared at her father and smeared honey on the end of her scone.  Hermione washed down her last bite of breakfast with the last of her orange juice, staunchly refusing to let herself laugh at her daughter's mutinous expression.  Snape, for his part, seemed just as inclined to ignore Antigone as well.  He was nursing his coffee, elbows on the table, eyes slightly unfocused as if he were thinking of something.  "Professor?"  His eyes shifted into focus and moved to rest on her.  There was an odd light within their depths, something she couldn't quite name.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"What will you tell them, the other Death Eaters, when Tigga's gone?"

"Simple.  I will tell them that I had to dispose of her when she couldn't be reformed."

Antigone's scowl turned into an expression of shock.  "They'd believe you'd kill your own daughter?"

"After all their children run home and tell them what a brat you are, most definitely."  Surprisingly, she had nothing to say about this.  Both her father and her mother thought this was nothing short of a miracle.

~***~

"I am _not_ a brat."

Hermione pondered this for a moment.  "Well, not really.  I mean, Malfoy's a brat, and you're far better than he is.  I'm sure that Professor Snape was just teasing you."

"You don't think I'm a brat?"

"Oh, of course not.  I've never seen you be cruel or heartless, and although I do think you're probably used to getting your way, I haven't seen anything to suggest you don't have a generous spirit.  After all, you're a Gryffindor in your own time, aren't you?"

Tigga worried her bottom lip as she doodled on her parchment.  They were in the Room of Requirement today, having wanted to go someplace where they could speak openly and without fear of being overheard.  It was also a lot warmer here, so Tigga could stretch out on her stomach as she worked.  "I wonder why the sorting hat put me in Slytherin this time."

"That's obvious, if you just think a moment."  Hermione was double checking her answers on a large arithmancy assignment due next week. She was supposed to work every odd problem out of a total of one hundred problems, but had decided to do the even problems as well.  She heard her future-daughter sigh and saw her lay the rest of the way down out of the corner of her eye.

"I'm too tired to think right now.  Just tell me."

Hermione looked up and saw that Antigone was pouting.  It wasn't a very pronounced pout, but it was still a pout.  There was a look of sadness about the other girl.  Without realizing it, Hermione closed her heavy textbook.  "What is it?"

"I want to go home.  I want to go back where I came from, when you and Daddy are both adults and go out of your way to embarrass me in public by kissing each other and Aunt Minerva takes me the Highland Games so I can watch the cute boys in their kilts and Albus covers for me when I almost get caught sneaking around after curfew."  She lifted her chin a few inches from the floor.  "I probably shouldn't have told you that last part."

"I'm fairly certain that Professor McGonagall doesn't take you to the Highland Games so you can drool over cute boys wearing kilts."

"I tell her that I like to go because I want to learn the finer points of Scottish culture and history."  Tigga smiled and rolled over onto her back, looking up at the stone ceiling above her.  "I'm glad I got to come here, but I still want to go home."

"I'd be surprised if you didn't.  This isn't your time and most of the people who are important in your life cannot know who you are now that you're here.  This isn't your home."  Hermione tilted her head to one side, her eyes meeting Antigone's as the other girl craned her head to look at her.  "I'm glad I had the chance to know you, though.  It's a great incentive towards motherhood."

Tigga grinned. "You mean if I hadn't come here and met you, you might not have had me at all?"

"I've read a great deal about pregnancy and childbirth.  It seems quite messy and painful, to be truthful.  I haven't really seen anything to recommend it until now."

"And Dad?"

Hermione snorted.  "The jury's still out on that one.  I'm trying to figure out what there is to recommend him.  So far all I've come up with is a high level of intelligence and the possibility that he's got an extensive private library."

Antigone's grin turned positively evil.  "I know another one."

"What's that?"

"I overheard you telling Aunt Ginny once that Dad's lower wand is almost as long as…"

"Hermione!"  The door to the room burst open as Harry and Ron came skidding across the unexpectedly highly polished marble floors.  Hermione and Tigga had indulged themselves in a slightly scandalous fantasy of a posh room such as a sultan would house his harem in, more to see what one looked like than anything else.  Harry managed to skid to a graceful halt whereas Ron's foot struck a firm, thick roll pillow, causing him to pitch forward onto a pile of silken cushions.  He lay face down for a second before pushing himself up onto his elbows and looking around.  "Not bad.  Now all we need are the girls.  Unless you two want to…"  He was cut off when Hermione grabbed a pillow and smacked him in the face with it.

"Why are you two charging around like a couple of idiots anyway?"

"We didn't see you at breakfast."  Harry flopped down on a cushion and reached for a bowl of grapes nearby.  "We thought maybe you'd forgotten that breakfast comes before the library again, but then Lavender said that Snape showed up in your dorm in the middle of the night and invited you to breakfast in his quarters."

"He did."  Hermione opened her text book again, secretly thinking that it was perhaps a good think that the boys had interrupted Antigone.

"How'd he get up there?" Ron asked with obvious puzzlement.  "We can't get up there.  Any boy tries and the steps just melt into that slide thing."

"Because he's a teacher, Ron.  The rules are different for teachers."

"You guys mean you haven't figured out how to get past that trip spell yet?  It's easy!  All you've got to do is…"  But how exactly one did get past the trip spell they didn't learn, because Hermione had clamped her hand over Antigone's mouth, glaring at her.

"Honestly!  How can your father be so good at keeping secrets and yet you continuously blabber at the mouth?  Ouch!" She jerked her hand away because Tigga had bitten her finger before blowing a raspberry at her.  This turned out to have been a bad idea, as she was stilly lying on her back with her head cranked at an awkward angle, which allowed saliva to spray into her own face.  Ron snorted with laughter as the tall girl grimaced and wiped it off.  Hermione merely smirked and said, "Serves you right."

"Seriously, Hermione, how could you pass up breakfast with us to eat with Snape?"

"Hey!?"

"No offense, Tigga."  Harry gave his newfound friend his most winning smile before looking back at Hermione.  "Ron got this mad idea that Snape was going to poison you."

"Oh, that's ridiculous.  Severus wouldn't poison me."

Both boys stared, dumbstruck, at their friend.  She continued to check her work for several minutes, until someone started making a sound a good deal like a cricket.  Hermione blinked and looked up, craning her neck around to see where the insect might be, until she realized it was coming from Tigga.  She gave the other girl a questioning look.  In answer, Tigga, stilly lying on her back, pointed over her head with one finger towards Harry and Ron.  Hermione looked up to see the pair of them staring at her, their jaws slack.  "What?"

"You… you called him by his name."

"Of course I did, Ron.  What else would I call Professor Snape but Professor Snape."

"You called him 'Severus'."

"What?  No I didn't."  Harry nodded mutely.  Hermione frowned, trying to think.  "Did I?"  She looked down at Tigga, who nodded.  "Oh."

"Hermione, are you feeling all right?"

"Yeah, Hermione, you feeling all right?"  Hermione kicked Tigga lightly in her hip to silence her.  

"I feel fine.  I was just a slip of the tongue.  I was too busy thinking about my homework and… and it just came out."

Ron looked skeptical.  "Tigga, what's going on?"

"Well, _she_ was doing her arithmancy homework and I was pretending to be doing that essay for Professor McGonagall."

"Not that.  You two are hiding something."

"Don't be silly.  Tigga and I were, well, we were trying to figure out how… how to make Gryffindor hate her."

"Why would we do that?  She's all right, for a Slytherin and a Snape."

Hermione sighed and looked at Tigga, who gazed back up at her.  "Well, last night Professor Snape was summoned by… by Voldemort.  He had found out about her and was upset with Professor Snape for not telling him he had a daughter."

"What?  You mean that no one knew about her?  Not even Snape's old cronies?"  Ron shifted himself around so that he was sitting cross-legged beside Harry.

"Apparently not.  Anyway, that was part of what he wanted to see me at breakfast about, to explain why Tigga can't be making anymore trips into Gryffindor Tower."

"Why not?"

Tigga rolled over on to her stomach, propping herself onto her elbows but not looking up.  "Because Daddy's supposed to start re-educating me to be a good, little pureblood, or at least that pasty-faced snake's version of one."

"That means no more eating at the Gryffindor Table, no more sitting with the Gryffindors during Quidditch matches she's not flying in and no more running around with us.  He says that I can still study with her, because he can argue that he's just using me to get her caught up with the classes here, but that's the only concession he'll make."

"That's terrible!"  Harry looked truly appalled.  "You mean we've got to start pretending to hate her?"

"What if we can't?"

"Well it's not my idea."  Tigga folded her hands over one another and flopped her chin down onto them.  

"And it's only temporary, until the professors can figure out a way to… make her disappear."

"And what happens if You-Know-Who wants proof before then?  What if she can't convince him she's gone all bad?"

"Then he'll expect Daddy to kill me."

The room fell quiet.  Tigga didn't even pretend to be a cricket again.  Ron's face had gone so white that his freckles seemed to pop off of his skin.  Harry swallowed hard before he tried to speak again.  "I suppose that we'll have to, for everyone's sake.  I mean, if Tigga doesn't seem to go bad, then the Death Eaters will want her dead.  If Snape doesn't at least look like he's trying to make her go bad, then Voldemort might figure out what he's really up to and we'll loose a good ally."

"So… what do we do?  I mean, it'll look fishy if we just start insulting her for no reason.  No one will question you if you stick up for her, Hermione.  I mean, you still stick up for Snape.  But the whole school knows that Tigga's welcome in Gryffindor Tower."

"We'll have to stage something, a sort of falling out."  

"Can we not plan it right this instant?"  Tigga gave a slight smile and pushed herself up onto her hands.  "I mean, can't we just have a little more time being friends before I turn all 'Malfoy' on you?"

Harry and Ron look up at their soon-to-be ex-friend and smiled.  "Don't see what waiting another day would hurt.  We can make a party of it."  Harry gave Ron a sly look.  "Time to make a run to Honeyduke's."

Ron grinned and nodded.  "Definitely!  We need party supplies."


	13. Chapter Thirteen

"You've got to be kidding me." Tigga tore the flyer from the bulletin board, a look of horror etched onto her face. The girls around her, however, were all giggling quite excitedly. None of them saw Hermione walking up.

"What's wrong? What's happened?"

Tigga shoved the flyer towards her. "Look at this!"

Hermione blinked and read over the paper. "A ball? But Dumbledore can't possibly expect to be able to organize a Halloween Ball this late! It's only in a few days!"

Lavender giggled. "Not a proper ball, no dress robes. It's a costume party."

Tigga gave a groan and walked out of the great doors. Hermione shoved the flyer at Lavender and ran after her. "Tigga! Wait up!" Why did her daughter have such long legs? "Antigone!"

The taller girl stopped and turned around, her expression mournful. "I can't dance."

Hermione stopped with a blink. "Pardon?"

Tigga sighed and sat down, unceremoniously, onto a stone bench. "I'm only graceful on a broomstick. The moment I get onto a dance floor, these boats that pass themselves off as feet get all tangled up." As if to emphasize the point, she straightened her legs out, bringing her heels onto the ground with a solid thunk.

Given all the current trials and tribulations in Antigone's life at the moment that she would be upset because she feared making a fool of herself at a dance was quite humorous. Hermione reminded herself not to laugh at the other girl's predicament. She sat down beside her. "Well, it is a clever idea."

Antigone frowned. "How so?"

"If there's a ball, then it would be suspicious if the Slytherins missed it, and Professor Snape will have to remain as a chaperone. This way you don't have to worry about attending the revel."

"I think I'd rather be in detention for doing something against school rules then have to go to a dance." She flopped her feet back and forth a bit, hitting her shoes together. "I don't have a clue what to dress up as."

"Oh, well, I don't either. But, we're two rather intelligent individuals with a grand library at our disposal. I'm certain we can come up with something."

* * *

"I was here, I had just come through the doors, and Malfoy was standing over there, about a foot to the right of where Minerva is standing."

"I see." Dumbledore was going over the scene with her. The cold, night air chilled her bony knees, slicing through her robes.

"Albus, isn't it kind of silly to send me right back to where someone tried to kill me?"

The ancient wizard chuckled. "I don't plan to send you back unprepared or unprotected, Tigga. You will be safe. And, since we know about the attack, it is highly doubtful that your father wasn't already on his way to the tower."

She folded her arms, not looking entirely convinced and more than a bit frightened. Minerva smiled and moved to her side, pulling the girl to her. "Don't worry, Miss Snape. We aren't about to let anything serious happen to you."

"I know. I'm just scared." She wrapped her arms around the teacher and indulged in a moment of comfort.

"Only a foolish person wouldn't be." Albus turned towards her with a twinkling gaze. "I think I have a better idea of things. And, now, I think we all need a very large mug of hot chocolate. This wind is too harsh on old bones."

They returned to the Headmaster's office where they all had a large mug of cocoa, with marshmallows for Tigga and a generous amount of schnapps for Albus and Minerva. After that, she left with a half-skip through the corridors. There was just enough time to get another thirty minutes of study time in the library, then a raid to the kitchens to see if she could get a few biscuits from the house elves.

"Tigga?"

She turned to see Ron Weasley coming out of one of the classrooms with a group of students that were a variety of Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. "Hey! Study group?"

The tall boy grinned and held up his transfiguration book. "How'd you guess?" He walked over to her as the bulk of the others went in different directions. "What brings you out here alone?"

"Oh! I was just on my way to the library."

Ron rolled his eyes. "I think Hermione has been a bad influence on you."

"And then I was going to raid the kitchens."

"But Harry and me have obviously been a great one!" Ron grinned brightly. "I could really go for some more of that pudding we had a dinner. Want some company, Miss Snape?"

Tigga smiled. "I would be honored, Mr. Weasley." They hurried away and made their way to the kitchens. Yes, there was pudding left, and cake, and biscuits and pumpkin juice and even some of the very fine roast beef. She and Ron took a seat at one of the duplicate house tables as the house elves brought them trays of food. Tigga was spearing into a perfectly roasted small potato as Ron chased down a mouthful of roast with a gulp of juice. He must be preparing to say something serious, because he rarely bothered to swallow before speaking.

"Antigone… did you hear about that dance Dumbledore's throwing Monday night?"

"The costume party? Yeah, I saw the flyer. Why?"

Ron pushed the roast around his plate. "Well, I was thinking, if you didn't have anyone… do ya wanna go with me?"

Tigga paused. The questions just seemed… odd. This was Ron-Ron… the goofy guy who used to help her pull pranks on her parents and bought her gifts at his brothers' joke shop. She had always thought he was cute, even had a bit of a crush on him when she was eleven, but be his date?

Her hesitation must have gone on too long, because he began to falter. "You probably have someone all ready."

"I'd love to!" It just came out before she could think. Once she had said it, she felt good about it. "I'd really like that."

Ron looked as though someone had hit him with a beater's club before breaking out in a wide smile. "Really? I mean… that's great! Oh! Let me get that." He topped off her goblet, hands shaking a bit. It was rather… sweet.

"So… what do we go as?"

Ron shrugged. "Dunno. Hadn't thought that far ahead. Not enough time for anyone to really buy a costume, so I guess we'll have to dig something up. Maybe transfigure something."

Tigga bit her bottom lip lightly. "Uhm… do you mind if I did that part? Transfiguration really isn't your best subject."

He looked as though he was about to protest, but stopped himself and gave a shrug that signaled he agreed…albeit with some reluctance.

* * *

"Absolutely not! I forbid it!"

Tigga gave a groan of frustration. "But _why?_ Give me one good reason."

"Because I said so!"

"Oh! That's intelligent! You know, this is just like when Max Creevey asked me to the Three Broomsticks. You were a complete idiot then, too!"

"_Creevey!_ It's bad enough that you're sorted into Gryffindor. Do you have to date them, too?"

"I happen to _like_ being in Gryffindor, and Maximillian Creevey is a Ravenclaw, _and_ he's bloody brilliant, _and_ he's a shoe-in for Head Boy next year!" She kicked the sofa as she passed it, her temper raging. "This is just _so_ like you! I can play Quidditch. I can join the Dueling Club. I can even go flying on the back of a hippogriff. But let one boy get the guts to ask out the Potions Master's Daughter and you start treating me like a five-year-old!"

Snape wasn't going to budge. "At the moment you're behaving _exactly_ like a five-year-old!"

"Dad! Dumbledore came up with this idea to fix it so we didn't have to show at that revel. Can't I at least enjoy it? Ron's a really nice guy."

"Who happens to be more than twenty years your senior."

"Not at the moment, and what about you and Mom?"

"That's not the same!" But it was… a bit. "Regardless, I forbid you to go to the dance with Ronald Weasley. End of the discussion. Now, get to bed. It's late." He turned her about and gave her a firm shove towards her bedroom door.

Tigga gritted her teeth, snatched up her book satchel and stalked off into the other room, slamming the door behind her in a last bit of open defiance. She threw her satchel aside yanked off her tie to hurl it into a corner. "Prat!"

Honestly. Fathers could be so stupid!


End file.
